Spain's Prisoner 1
by ShyScience
Summary: Sixteen year old Romano Lovino Vargas  find's he is kidnapped by pirate Spain  Antonio Fernandez Carriedo and is taken aboard his ship.
1. Chapter 1

Romano gasped as he was pushed onto the hard wooden floor of the Captain's "office" room. He'd been stolen from his home. Him, just a simple sixteen year old Italian boy, was stolen. Stolen and imprisoned here on this pirate boat, after being beating to the point he couldn't move, then thrown harshly on the floorboards at the auburn, leather boots of the Captain. He winced as the tip of one of those boots pushed his chin up, tears and blood staining his tan face.

"This is him?" Romano heard a low voice say though he couldn't see much but the blurry outline of the figures because of the tears still fogging up his hazel eyes.

"Wh-What…Wh-Why am I here?" He strained, his throat still clogged from his earlier sobs of pain. But he only felt a pain in his side as one of the crew members kicked his side roughly, telling him only to speak when spoken to.

Romano curled in pain, twitching and crying again like before though he couldn't stop it. He wondered if he was going to die and if his little brother had been taken also though he didn't think so. He had been ambushed and brought here, but he was alone when that had happened. So, he knew, he was alone.

"No, hold on. Let the little guy talk for now." Romano heard the same low voice say, its thick Spanish accent making it obvious who it was.

"Sp-Spain…Y-You're Spain…" Romano choked out, the words burning his throat but he didn't move from his curled up position until he was forced to roll back over on his stomach once more. He stared hazily at the man sitting at his throne, still eyeing him interestingly.

"That is I. And you are Romano, are you not? South Italy?" The Spaniard replied smoothly, moving the tip of his boot to the boy's chin again, moving his head around as he studied him.

Romano was taken back. He…he captured him intentionally? It wasn't just by mere chance he was the one who was taken! "B-Bastard!" He hissed through clenched teeth.

This time though, the Spaniard didn't help him when he was kicked again. Simply, he just watched his first mate kick the boy around before, once again, throwing him full force before the man's feet. He could hardly breathe, his body trembling uncontrollably against the cold floor. "N-No…please."

"How? If you are my prisoner now?"

Romano watched as he saw movement that obviously meant the Spaniard was grinning now. He saw as the man stood up, much taller than he thought he was, but couldn't do anything as he was lifted. His body was in too much pain. His left wrist was bandaged with brown wrap and he yelped as it was grabbed and pulled on. But it was let go of and he was being carried against the Spaniard's chest. _'Damn…'_ He thought lowly, still shivering in pain. "Wh-Where are we going!"

Spain laughed some, still holding the boy "wedding style" towards his room. "Why, we're just going to my room to get to know each other a little better…"


	2. Chapter 2

Romano lightly coughed from the earlier kicks in the Spaniard's long arms, fearful of how he wanted to get to know him. He squirmed though he was only wasting his energy and soon figured this out, so, he quit. He'd save his energy to run once this idiot let go.

So, his large hazel eyes watched a single, large door come closer. Its wooden form was splattered with brilliant decorations carved into it. It had to be the Captain's room.

And it was. As they finally stood face to face with the door, Captain Spain lifted his foot and kicked it open. Not like it was locked or anything, it was cracked open, so Romano lost his surprised expression when he realized this.

"Alright, Romano." Spain said, pushing the door closed with his foot and putting the boy down on his bed before going back to lock the door. "Let's get to know one another, hmm?" He reminded, already shedding his long coat, leather boots and large hat.

The Italian boy on the bed quivered, suddenly remembering why he had been brought in here. He crawled away from the Spaniard as far as he could, his back against the wall on the opposite side of the room though he was still on the bed.

Spain didn't seem to notice, or just didn't care about, his cautious behavior and sat himself upon the bed as well. He patted the spot beside him, motioning the boy to come back over and sit next to him, but he didn't budge. Spain patted again but had no response, at this he scowled and reached over quickly.

Romano squealed, a bit high pitched for a young man his age, as he felt his one, precious curled hair that sat atop his head be yanked on roughly. His cheeks flushed a bright red, even against his tanned skin it was quite noticeable. _'H-How did he know about my curl! Dammit!_' But Spain didn't stop until Romano had crawled over next to him, trying to get him to quit tugging.

Once the trembling young man was next to him, Spain let the curl go and wrapped one of his arms around his shoulders so he couldn't escape. His face shone brightly even though the boy beside him was wiping off a lonely tear on his face. "Like I was saying, come on, tell me about yourself, mi querida! Your home, life, hobbies?" He rang, his attitude and personality completely flipping over from that elegant, serious and sadistic Captain he had been only moments before.

_'Th-This is what he meant by get to know me!_' Romano thought, angry at himself for expecting something else. But then again, he supposed that this was much better than what he had thought was going to happen.

"Roma?" Romano heard a soft voice say, looking over at the Captain to see him staring at him with curious, emerald eyes. His smile was still so captivating though it had been grinning at his pain before. How could someone just change like that?

"Well?"

Romano still hesitated but eventually just crossed his tan arms and huffed loudly. "You don't need to know, damn bastard!" He growled in return, but the Captain seemed unfazed.

Spain just kept smiling but after a few minutes of silence, his arm still around the pouty sixteen year old beside him, he sighed. "I suppose you are right, mi amour. I don't need to know." He said, watching the surprised Romano uncross his arms and look up at him in shock. Had this damn pirate actually given up to him that easily?

"But…" Spain continued, much to Romano's dismay. "I just thought I should learn a little more about you personally before I start giving you your work as my new little... helper boy."

Romano froze, his fingers twitching were his only sign of movement. He couldn't breathe, his entire body went numb. "Y-You mean…you mean you'll keep me as…your slave, don't you?" He choked out hoarsely.

Captain Spain seemed to have not moved either but finally nodded his head up and down.

This set the smaller boy off. "How dare you, damn bastard! You plan to just steal me away from my home and expect me to be your obedient little slave!" He snapped roughly, flying off the bed in his anger, throwing his arms up as if in a fight with his love partner. "Stupid! Stupid damned bastard! How dare you! I will not! I'm going home and don't you dare try and stop me, bastard!"

As Romano stormed out of the room, he noticed the Captain made no move to stop him. He smirked to himself. Did all it really take to twist a pirate Capitan around was to yell a little bit? To think he once admired their bravery and strength! That was all washed away now.

As the cinnamon haired teen reached the outer deck, he stopped, horrified. He glanced around frantically, running from each side of the boat to the other. "Damn bastard! You set sail, dammit!" He cursed loudly, eventually forgetting no one could understand him when he started shouting out Italian. Though the entire crew could guess at what he was screaming.

Romano screamed as he ran around the entire deck, still in search for the beautiful shore of his wonderful home of southern Italy instead of these vast waters. He knocked over barrels and crates of food, fresh water, alcohol and just about every desired asset, causing everyone to scramble so their necessary supplies were not wasted.

Suddenly, the small man felt a tight grip go around his arms and his back be pulled against someone's chest, stopping his tantrum short. Upon looking behind him, he saw the last person he wanted to be near. Spain. "Damn! Damn fucking filthy pirate, let me the hell go!" He screamed, but was still pulled against his will back into the Captain's room.

"I said let me go, dammit! Go to hell!" He snapped the rude comments nonstop as Spain threw him on the bed again. This time, his face serious again. He stared with venomous eyes at the boy balling on his bed, sobbing and cursing him all at once.

"It seems…" The Spaniard started quietly yet somehow the Italian heard him and stopped his yelling as the taller male started coming closer. Eventually he was on the bed with him and Romano thought he was just going to comfort him like before, put that jolly smile on his face and laugh again. But no. Romano watched the man crawl even closer until he was right above him. The Spanish man's hands grasping the smaller wrists as Romano tried to smack the Spaniard away. "It seems I have to teach my new private servant a thing or two about respect and discipline." He growled to the horror struck Italian under him. But before he could scream again, ask for forgiveness or beg him to give him another chance, he had the Spaniards lips pressed roughly on his own and was still never given the chance to beg the rest of the night.


	3. Chapter 3

Romano woke up as his body rocked back and forth as the waves crashed against the ship roughly. His half-awake mind was bothered by a horrible headache and his body ached. Sweat strained his tan skin and he could feel the warmth of a blush on his cheeks still. Where was he…?

He rolled on his side, only getting a sharp pain from his vital regions coming back up and shooting through his spine. He groaned, still unsure what had happened to cause his body to be so sore and sticky from sweat. It wasn't that hot where ever he was, so he wasn't sure why he was like this.

He sat up, despite the pain, and glanced around, nothing being familiar. This wasn't his room…no…this was…He gasped, the rush of everything that happened crashing into him like the waves outside. "Dammit, Bastard!"

Romano felt small, warm tears well up in his hazel eyes as he kept glancing around for anything that would tell him this wasn't real. He wasn't in Captain Antonio's room and last night he hadn't been…No! He shook his head, the tears overflowing onto his rosy cheeks.

"You're up, I see." Romano heard a soft voice say, obviously that damn pirate addressing him. He was already dressed in his Captain clothes. The same coat, hat and boots as yesterday, pretty much was what it was. Obviously he had been up already and gone somewhere, only to come back to an awaken Romano.

"D-Damn you…" Romano muttered, his body trembling, moving as far away from the man that walked through the door as possible. His back pressed against the wall and he kept the blanket on him to cover his naked body. He shot glares at the Spaniard though he couldn't stop the tears.

"Aw, Roma, what's the matter?" Spain asked as if he didn't know. His green eyes filled with a soft gentleness that Romano never expected from a pirate. But after last night, he didn't trust it either. "What?" Spain continued, still stepping forward until he was on the bed with the boy. "You act as if you've never been punished before. That would be lying, Roma. But…from what I can gather, that was your first time having-"

"Shut up and go to hell!" Romano spattered, interrupting the man, not wanting to hear him anymore.

"Well, I'm sorry for having to punish you on your first night here, but hurry up and get dressed so we can go to the mess hall." Spain told him, moving off the bed, which eased the Italian until he saw him go over to a closet and rummage through it.

"Ah, here it is!" He rang in a sing-song kind of voice and turned around to face Romano, holding a pink dress, fitted with a white apron and little white bonnet thing just his size. "This is for you to wear, Romano. This way everyone will know you are my servant." Spain laughed some at the horror in the boy's face.

"I will not!"

Spain's face fell, his eyes hardened on the boy that still sat there away from him, huddled together in terror. "What?"

"I-I won't wear that! It's a dress! Dresses are for women! I will not!"'

Spain shifted on his feet so his weight was put on the other, thinking silently to himself. The quiet ate away at Romano as he sat there, but he shrieked as Span started walking towards him again, still holding the dress with one hand.

"Ah! Ah, B-Bastard! W-What are you-No!" Romano shouted, though obviously no one came to help. Even if he was heard no one cared. They knew from the voice that was making so much fuss (just like they had last night) and knew it was the Captain's deal.

Spain held onto Romano's wrists with one hand while the other was busily pulling away the blanket from over him. Once that was done, he let the boy have his arms back but not for long before he had the dress pulled over his head. This only resulted in an angrier Romano though and he tried pulling it off once he found out it was on.

"Don't you dare take it off!" Antonio snapped, smacking the boy across the head (though not nearly as hard as he could have) and grabbed his curl. "I know you don't want to have to be punished again, but I don't mind it if I have to. We'll just be a bit late for breakfast." This made Romano stop all his cursing and wiggling about so instead, he stared up at the larger man with fright though he tried to pull his face into a proud kind of pose.

Antonio grinned triumphantly and tied the bonnet with a bow on his cinnamon hair. "There…" He spoke to himself, pulling his hands away from the trembling boy's head. As he looked down though he found Romano starting to cry again, though he held his proud expression Spain knew he couldn't stop his tears from flowing down his face. It was kind of cute, actually. "Oh come no, Roma. Calm down, mi amor. Come on, let's get your socks and shoes on then we'll go eat." He spoke gently again, wiping tears from the boy's face with his thumb as he climbed off him to get his shoes.

Romano hated when he did that. Not only threaten him, but when he did, afterwards he'd go back to that gentle, light-hearted fellow again with a big, stupid grin on his face. He looked down at himself through his watery eyes, staring with disgust at the rosy dress and snowy apron. His hand went up and felt the girly cap on his head. His ran over the frills before they did the ones on the apron and dress.

Spain came back with two shiny, black shoes and white socks that would go up to the end of the dress at his mid-calves.

"Here we go." Romano heard him say as he slipped on the last shoe, having already put on the socks and other shoe. "Now hurry up, I'm starving…" He said, grabbing the tan boy by his arm and pulling him up, holding him until he got his legs situated as he wobbled and stumbled from the vital region pain and soreness still a little bit. Once he was able to stand on his own, Spain smiled and led him out of the room towards the mess hall for breakfast.


	4. Chapter 4

Romano was silent, the blush on his cheeks even brighter than a few minutes ago. The crew members that had already or hadn't yet eaten and were on deck couldn't help but smirk and chuckle at the sight of the humiliated boy walking around in a pink dress. Romano knew they were all staring at him walking behind their captain so he kept his watery, hazel eyes on the wooden planks of the floorboard.

He kept trudging deadly until he ran into the paused Spaniard's back. "Wh-What? Why did you stop, bastard?" Romano growled into the man's back, but was ignored as he heard him laugh in the door way of what he guessed was the mess hall because of the aroma illuming from it.

He could hear the shouts of many crew members, yelling there good mornings and greeting to Antonio. Who, didn't hesitate to answer each of them with that silly grin, a wave and a "Good morning" back.

"Hurry up, dammit!" Romano mumbled angrily to the man who suddenly turned around and grabbed his hand in his own. "W-What are you doing!"

Spain just laughed and pulled he boy in with him, a few members clapped and others whistling to the red-faced Italian. Spain acted as if he didn't even realize any of this was happening and just pulled him further to the last open table. Obviously it was reserved for the Captain.

He motioned one of the cooks to bring them their food as he sat Romano down in the chair next to him. Just then a few other pirates moved to their table and from what Romano could gather they were the highest in ranks. The first-mate sat on the other side of Spain and the others in the empty chairs. The one beside Romano winked at him, making him shiver at the sun kissed man and actually scoot closer to Spain. That was a big mistake.

As he scooted closer, the Spaniard noticed and wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulders lovingly. Out of everything he doesn't notice he had to realize Romano willingly getting closer? 'Damn…' He thought warily to himself as food was placed in front of the two.

Romano stared at whatever it was that was on his plate though Spain just started laughing and eating, still chatting it up with the other crew members but hadn't let his arm fall from Romano's shoulders yet.

"What's wrong?" Antonio asked, looking down at his little servant that stared suspiciously at his food. "It's just pork and bread. Eat up, you'll need the energy." Spain winked.

Some of the crew members around caught onto the joke and laughed heartedly. Romano just grimaced and began nibbling his way through the bread.

After everyone was done eating, Spain and Romano were the last ones left in the mess hall because everyone else had gone off to do their duty on the ship. They sat there quietly, Romano staring down at the dress once again in hatred while Spain just ran his tan fingers through the boy's hair. It was so soft…

After about half an hour of silence, Spain spoke up. "Well, let's get going shall we?" He grabbed Romano's hand, leaving the dishes there for the cleaners to get rid of, and walked him out of the mess hall.

Romano glanced up into the Spanish man's emerald eyes. He could see the disappointment that he hadn't said anything in those beautiful eyes. 'Wait, what! Beautiful! Hardly! More like tricky and lying!' Romano thought in shame, his thoughts leading back to the sin from last night. She shook his head and refused to let the tears fall again.

"Alright," Spain said once they were on the deck again and stopped. "As my private servant, you have some special jobs entitled only to you and some regular jobs. You will help clean when I instruct you. You will do everything you are told by me. You will not complain. You shall stay with me at all times unless I say otherwise. You will sleep in my bedding. You will be punished if you break my rules." Spain went on and on about his rules and Romano's roll here on the ship. But really, all it sounded like to him was he was this guy's maid and toy.

"One last thing, Romano." Spain said more quietly so only Romano would hear in case any other crew members were listening. "When we dock, don't try running away. Trust me, you'd regret it now that you are part of our pirate crew. There are some people out there that were going to grab you up before I got you first and they won't hesitate to take you away. Not to mention those that just want to hurt me, like Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy."

Romano flinched. He knew those names. They both had wanted posters all around South Italy and they often raided or stole from his country. He hadn't had so much trouble with Spain but he could only guess they were all rivals in this pirate game he was now dragged into.

Captain Antonio stood there, his face just a few inches away from Romano's as is green eyes watched him seriously. "You understand?"

Romano nodded slowly, still afraid of the thought of being caught by that sadistic Kirkland or perverted Bonnefoy. He didn't have time to visualize what they would do to him long before that idiot had put his grin back on and laughed.

"Well good, mi amor! Glad we will be alright. We should be docking soon, too. That storm doesn't look too good."

Romano stared at him a bit confused before he noticed in the distance a mash of dark clouds that cut the horizon. He hadn't even noticed them there, slowly sneaking closer to the ship. He glanced away, his eyes setting longingly as the hazel orbs locked onto the faint sight of land.

But those other pirates…could he really run now? What if this stupid bastard was right and he was caught? Would he even bother to try and help him?

"How long?" Romano mumbled to the man holding his shoulders as he stood behind him, both of them still gazing out at the piece of land that was inching its way towards them.

"Hmm?"

"How long?" Romano repeated, slightly annoyed. "How long will we be there?"

"Oh…" Spain replied, pondering the thought. "Let's see. Until the storm passes over, which could be a few days or not? It's hard to tell for right now, mi amor. The storm should be there by midnight, but when it does get there and over with we are going to spend some more days gathering supplies for the ship before we head back out. So, if the storm only lasts about three days we will be here for maybe a little over a week if everything goes according to plan. "Why?"

"Nothing." Romano muttered in return, his heart thumping so hard it would break his ribs as he felt the ship stop and the crew start preparing the ship for the storm not far behind while Antonio smiled down at the Italian as he grabbed his hand again and walked off the ship.

Slinking through the locals, Captain Spain found his way to an old inn. This would work for now. After getting them a room, he explained to Romano how they would sleep here for the next few nights but he should still be cautious.

Spain smiled, taking him back outside. It was still early, maybe about twelve o'clock at latest. "Let's go get some things to put in the room before the storm hits." He told the smaller lad, pulling him along with him as the rest of the crew made their way to get their rooms after having exiting the ship.

"Like what?" Romano growled, trying to pull his hand out of the Spanish man's grasp. But to no use as he kept his grip tight.

"Well, from the look of that storm it's going to be too bad to go outside, at least not for long, anyway. So, food would be important and fresh water." Antonio answered simply, chuckling softly at the boy as they stepped into a small shop.

"Hola!" Captain Antonio greeted sweetly to the elderly woman running the little store with her husband. "We'd like some goods, please?"

The woman and Antonio spoke back and forth for what seemed to Romano as hours. Mostly it was business and Antonio trying to get a better deal on what he was trying to get but often too they would drift off course and change the subject for a few minutes before Romano would cough to get them from telling their random stories of life and back to why they were here. Really, did this man have that much problem with paying attention?

As the time passed Romano only got more and more bored with this. Eventually he started scavenging the little place for something of interest while he waited. Not much to look at. Some food, books he couldn't read because it was in a different language other than Italian, and some toys…

The Italian sat on the dusty ground, quietly playing with some marbles and an old chess set that sat there. He wasn't sure how long he had sat there, playing chess by himself, but suddenly he jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"And however much these things are, my good ma'am." He heard Antonio say, motioning what Romano was playing with. He was already holding the food and water he bought, his arm that wasn't touching Romano stuffed full and the woman still had more on the counter.

"Come on, Roma. Let's get going. Grab your toys and let's go." He told the Italian, moving to get the rest of the food in his other arm. Once he was satisfied it wouldn't fall out of his arms, he left the store with a puzzled Romano behind him. The boy looked down at his new toys, the marbles and the chess set. He didn't bother asking to help with the food or water, that bastard was the one who kidnapped him. He didn't deserve help.

Back in their room, Spain let the things in his arms fall on a small, wooden desk in the corner of the room.

"You can just put that down where you like, Roma." Spain told him softly, ignoring the glares coming from the boy. He watched as Romano set the things he held on the ground and watched Spain leave the place again.

"Stop going back and forth, dammit!" Romano whined, following him out because truthfully he was afraid to be alone in this place. "Now where are you going?"

Spain grinned, is eyes searching the building curiously before he grinned wider and started forward again. "Just to get some poison, mi amor…" He told him playfully, stepping into the bar he had found without delay.

Romano scoffed in disgust but as he turned to walk away he caught sight of two larger men he hadn't seen before pointing at him and talking amongst themselves suspiciously. So, Romano would rather stay with Spain than try his chances with those two brutes. He caught up to Spain promptly, only having him wrap his tan arm around him by the waist and walk straight to the bar, pulling him along. "Rum, please, my good sir." He told the man behind the wooden barrier, pulling Romano into his lap. He shot a look at the boy and grinned deviously. "Make that two, actually."

Romano glared harder at the hand that still had his arm around him. "I don't want your disgusting rum, you damn pirate bastard! And let me go!" He fussed as Spain was handed the two drinks.

"What? You can't hold your liquor, mi amor?" He asked curiously, trying the young man as he started to gulp down his down drink.

"It's gross!" Romano protested as Spain nudged the drink closer to him.

"Come on, just try it."

"No, dammit! No!"

"Please? For your Captain, Roma?" He asked, his own drink already half gone and he pushed Romano's even closer to him.

"I said NO, you damn pirate go to hell!" Romano yelled, smacking the drink so it shattered on the floor at their feet.

"Romano-" Spain started but was interrupted by an all too familiar voice.

"What's wrong, Spain? Can't even handle a little boy? That's sad, even for you. Alfred here is perfect, and even France's Matthew is better than yours."

Spain turned around, holding Romano close to him as he watched the British man, Arthur Kirkland, laugh at him. He had his arm around a smaller boy, around Romano's age, but he had dirty blonde hair and one part of it was sticking up oddly. His blue eyes were filled with wonder and curiosity as he looked from the Spaniard to the Italian in front of them. His smile was innocent and childish, nothing like the pirate he stood next to.

"Damn…What are you doing here, England?" Spain glared coldly, only getting more chuckles from the Brit.

"What? I wanted a drink, same as you. Is that a crime?" He asked, helping Alfred onto one of the high chairs at the bar before Arthur made himself comfy in the one between Alfred and Antonio.

"A rum for me as well, sir." Arthur said, looking down at Alfred who shook his head. He wasn't much of a liquor fan same as Romano. But, he didn't smack I away like him either. He just kept his smile and watched the three others, his enormous imagination exploring it's thoughts of what would happen.

"Stay close to me and stay cautious, Romano." Spain whispered in the trembling boy's ear. "This is going to be a long week."


	5. Chapter 5

Romano stared uncertainly at the Spaniard whose lap he was still sitting on. "B-Bastard. Why are they here!"

England raised a large brow and grinned a little. "What? You expect being a pirate's slave would be smooth sailing, little thing?" He cooed mockingly, causing the little Italian to shiver and clench cowardly onto the Spaniard's coat.

It was quiet between the four. Alfred just kept swinging his feet playfully as he sat beside Arthur, who only looked between the other three while sipping his large jug of rum. Antonio had wrapped his arms protectively against the quivering boy in his lap and kept his eyes cautiously on the Brit.

Finally getting annoyed by the silence between them, England slammed his glass down, motioning for a refill and attention. "Rude as always, Antonio!" The Brit scoffed. "Not even bothering to introduce your new comrade to us or talk?"

"You don't need to know his name!" The Spanish man spat back quickly.

England rolled his eyes. "I know his name, stupid twat. Lovino Vargas, South Italy, grandson of the great Empire Rome. It's just you haven't said a word even though you know fully well I know whw this kid is, it's quite impolite and unfriendly, you know."

Spain looked down at the confused looking Lovino in his lap and pulled him against him tighter. "I think maybe it's time me and Lovino lea-"

"Arthur!" A loud voice was heard, somewhat sad sounding and lonely. "Arthur! I'm bored! Can me and…and…"

"Lovino?" Arthur finished, already knowing what the boy was wanting to ask.

"Yeah! Can me and Lovino go outside and play?"

"You and who?"

"Lovino?"

Arthur shook his head and suddenly Alfred, who had looked confused grinned again and nodded.

"May Lovino and I go play outside?"

"Good boy, Alfred. I don't see why not, do you, Antonio?"

Antonio twitched, hearing the playfully sadistic sound on the Englishman's tongue. He looked down at Lovino again, who was staring back at him.

"Besides, they are the same age, aren't they? Sixteen?" Arthur added sweetly. "And, I've been meaning to talk to you about some things that these sweet boys may not want to hear."

Without a reply, Alfred jumped off the chair, and skipped over to Antonio's side. He grabbed Romano's hand and pulled him out of the tan man's grasp suddenly. This boy was so strong for such a young age! The excited boy quickly pulled the cursing Romano out of the bar, laughing and skipping merrily in his thin, white shirt and dark, blue pants.

Watching them leave, Arthur laughed. "Well, your kid looks even more girly next to my Alfred. How sad!"

Antonio growled, muttering under his breath as he turned to shoot icy at the Brit beside him, still trying to decide if he should go after the teens.

England ignored these glares though and smiled deviously at him. "Now…about our last, interrupted, discussion…"

~~~ Else Where ~~~

"Dammit, let me go!" Romano roared, tugging against the impressively strong grip of the shining blonde who was leading him somewhere.

The cursing and threats were dry to Alfred though and he didn't even seem to notice them. "Come on! We're almost there!"

"Where!"

"There!" Alfred rang happily, pointing with his free hand towards a large ship Romano didn't recognize. It was carved of dragons and fairies, Romano saw, a quite magical looking ship, literally. The sails were white with a red cross disturbing the light color and many large men were aboard the ship, taking care of things that needed it.

"W-Wait! I can't go up there!"

Alfred stopped, forcing Romano to bump into him from the sudden movement. The blonde turned around, the pain was visible in his large, blue eyes. "Why not?"

The abrupt turn of emotion made Romano flinch, reminding him of Antonio's own bipolar like attitude. "I-I…Antonio said I shouldn't!"

"But your Captain didn't even know we were here!" Alfred whined in return.

"Yeah, but he said I had to stay with him! So, I should probably go back to him!" Lovino replied quickly, it was obvious whose ship he was trying to be pulled on. He would not get on that crazy Kirkland's ship! Never!

"And he is not my Captain!" He fumed. He refused to call that man anything so respectful! Not after kidnapping him and what he put him through last night!

"If he isn't your Captain, why do you gotta listen to him then?" Alfred asked, his face pouty and saddened.

This stumped the Italian. He was too proud to admit he was his Captain, but he needed an excuse now! "A-Ah…well…you see…" But as he stared into the pools of blue shining back at him that were Alfred's eyes, he couldn't come up with a good excuse that couldn't be countered and he wouldn't admit he was too afraid to get on. "I just don't want to! Why would I want to get on that ship anyway!"

Alfred smiled again, not seeming to be offended in the least. "Because! I have all sorts of cool games and toys and stuff in my room that we can play with!"

Romano scoffed proudly, keeping his curiosity for the objects he praised on about shelled with his normal, cold attitude. "Why don't you just go get your stuff and bring it down here?"

"Well, Arthur says I can't. He says I have a tendency to lose things or something. Besides, I wouldn't want to load all that stuff down here and just bring it back up again! That's why I only brought the smaller stuff down earlier and brought it to mine and Arthur's room in the inn or whatever it is." Alfred beamed brightly, glowing luminous against the dark clouds in the horizon, still drawing closer.

"Well Antonio just bought me some cool toys and stuff too! So why don't we just go get some of mine? They're in our room!"

Alfred shrugged, "Sure! Let's go! Lead the way!"

Romano puffed out his chest proudly, and started off towards where he remembered Antonio showing him where they were staying.

"Hey," Alfred muttered, looking Romano up and down now while they walked side by side.

"What?"

"So…um…Why are you in a dress?"

Romano flushed, the taller, blonde boy raising a curious eyebrow, not sure why he was blushing so. "I-I…Antonio wanted me to, okay!"

"But, why would you listen if he isn't your Cap-"

"Forget it! I did it 'cause I'm nice, alright!"

Alfred shrugged, not thinking twice about the answer he was given and smiled beside the smaller boy happily.

"Well, here it is." Romano muttered, some pink still staining his tan face though most of the blush had faded away by now. He pushed open the door, and closed it after they were both in. Then, he stepped over to the toys he had been bought earlier. The chess set and bag of marbles.

"Oh, you have chess and marbles too!" Alfred laughed merrily, sitting on the ground while Romano put the set and round, bagged toys down in from of him while he set opposite of Alfred.

"Yeah," Lovino replied quietly, moving the set directly between them. "Wanna play with this first?"

"Anything! Sure!" Alfred chimed and they both quickly set up their pieces.

"I won!" The blonde laughed as the Italian scowled after the game was done, obviously not like being beaten.

"Okay, okay! You won! How about the marbles now?" Romano offered, dumping the round toys onto the floor.

"Yay!"

They played for about half an hour before Romano spoke up.

"Hey, Alfred," He started quietly, both of them lying on their stomach as they played like children. "How come you didn't just say we could go to your room and play with your toys you did bring out of the ship?"

Alfred stopped moving for a moment, making Romano look up at him in curiosity, wondering why he stopped so suddenly. The blonde just stared down at the marbles as he muttered his answer, almost seeming hesitant and unwilling to, as Romano saw it. Though as he answered, Romano wish he hadn't asked, because his reply sent untrustworthy shivers up his spine.

"Well, Arthur says I shouldn't let anyone know where our room is 'cause then someone could come and attack us while we slept, set the building on fire or anything really…"


	6. Chapter 6

"No." The boiling Spaniard repeated in annoyance, glaring at the Brit beside him. "No."

"Ah, but why not?" The Englishman replied slyly, turning slightly on the stool as he took yet another swig of his rum. "It would benefit us both and you know that, so what is the matter with you? Too afraid of losing your precious little south Italy?"

"You do not need to know my reasoning, Kirkland! Just my answer, and my answer is no!" Antonio raised his voice threateningly though it seemed not to faze the pale man in the slightest.

"Alright, alright. No need to yell, I may be old, but I can hear fine."

"That must be a fib, since you can't seem to hear my answer and keep asking on."

"No, it isn't that, my good man. It's only, this request of mine would be highly effective for you and your beautiful country and I only want what is best for you and your little Italian. But, if your final answer is refusal, there is very little hope of becoming allies and friends of any sort, old chap, so I shall be giving you the night to think it over. I'll be back in this bar tomorrow night, when you have your last answer." He ignored the hate in the green eyes of the Spanish man as he had his tan fists clenched and teeth gritted together roughly. Without another word or waiting for the heated reply, he removed his English body from the stool and strode away from the bar and into the dark night, leaving the burning man to wonder about his future and his little Romano's as well.

~~~ Elsewhere~~~

Romano stared in disbelief at what the blonde sitting opposite of him just told him. "A-Attack? Burn down the building? Y-You aren't serious are you?"

Alfred looked down. He liked the time he had been playing with Romano, but he wasn't lying. "No, I'm serious. A hero never lies!"

'You are a pirate! You are no hero! Pirates aren't heroes! Get out!"

"What? But, Lovino! I am a hero! And we haven't finished the game!"

"Get out of my room, bastard! You aren't a hero! You are anything from it!" He hissed loudly, shoving the taller teen out into the humid night before slamming the door in his shocked face.

'Not…a hero…?' Alfred shivered, his blue eyes glowing suddenly in anger. "I am too the hero!" He yelled knowing the Italian could easily hear his raised voice. "I am the hero! A hero, and not some girly pansy like you!" Then he stomped off towards where Arthur had shown him where they'd be staying their nights here.

He stared at the ground as he walked, steaming over what had happened. Romano seemed to have a raging temper, but then again, Arthur had warned him about it before they confronted them in the bar. But, the boy was too much of a jerk, and though it saddened Alfred that he had just lost a new friend and he probably couldn't ever prove to him he was the hero, he wasn't sure he wanted to be around him much if he was going to be like that anyway.

Still glaring, he pushed open the door of their bedding, his gaze being met with the loving, emerald gems of Arthur's eyes.

"Hmm, what's wrong, love?" The Captain stood up, easily wrapping his arms around the boy's neck and looking at him with a satisfied grin. "I'm guessing the little brat had his melt down like expected?"

The Brit watched as the only reply he was given was a slight nod, but that was all he needed and his grin grew larger. He ran a pale hand through the fellow blonde's hair, the cowlick still sticking back up no matter how many times it was pressed down. This seemed to calm the angry boy down and he relaxed in the older nation's arms, a small, calm smile forming on his lips as he closed his eyes against him. "And you found out where they are bedding here in town?"

Another nod.

"Wonderful job, Alfred. Truly, you are the most amazing thing that has passed my way in all my years. Now, tell me where their room is and tell me what Lovino did to make you so upset…"

~~~ Elsewhere ~~~

"Stupid Antonio bastard!" Romano cried as the bedroom door opened, revealing the focused Spaniard who didn't seem to notice the damp coat he wore from the rain that had started. "That stupid American knows where we are spending the night!"

"You told him?" Spain seemed only slightly startled at first, but then realized what that meant. They were vulnerable.

Romano hesitated. "N-No…he followed me!"

"Followed you?"

"S-Si…"

"I see…" The Spaniard walked away from the closed door and sat on the bed beside the flinchy Italian after taking his wet coat and hat off. "And you wouldn't happen to know where theirs is…?"

Romano shook his head nervously.

A sigh escaped the older man but he smiled reassuringly down at Romano. "We'll be alright tonight at least."

"How would you know that! Don't lie to me, bastard! You don't know that!" Lovino cried out but was interrupted when the taller man pulled him closer against him and laid down tiredly.

"I know, Lovi. Please, trust me. For the night, we are safe." He repeated softly into the boy's auburn hair, holding his lovingly with his arms around his waist and the Italian's back against his front torso. He knew England wouldn't try anything to night. After all, he needed nothing to ruin his slim chases of Spain agreeing to his little "deal" so he wouldn't get on his bad side.

This only put Antonio in stress again as he wondered now if it was still the right thing to do to answer no to the proposition the Englishman gave him once again. It sounded good for his people, and probably Romano's too. But, it was that snake Kirkland's offer, he was bound to have a never ending wave of catches and backfires lined up around him and Lovi if he agreed.

Spain kept thinking when he heard a soft sound that sounded like quiet sobs. He opened his eyes and moved so he could see Lovino's face. It was drenched and a light pink from the mood.

"It's alright, Lovi." The Spaniard surprised the boy by still being awake and felt himself as he turned by his Captain so they faced one another.

Spain ran a hand through the thick locks of soft hair on Romano's head and wrapped his other hand back around his lower back. He knew it wasn't just fright that gnawed hungrily at him. It was this whole thing. He was kidnapped, after all, and "punished" the first night. Honestly, he couldn't expect the boy to be happy…

~~~ Else Where~~~

"Ready, Alfred?" Arthur asked, his coat helping stop the cold raindrops from touching his pale skin.

"Yes, sir Captain. Ready." Came the reply and Alfred led the way.

"This is it." He told his superior after a few minutes of walking through the town, dodging anyone that was still up at this late hour. They came to a door among many, a boring little Inn. "This is where Captain Antonio and Lovino are staying."

"Perfect. Good job, love. Damn good job. And remember, right now it may seem what we are doing is wrong, but in the long run, this will enlighten a new life of discovery and give livelihood to the world!" Arthur whispered encouragingly before kneeling before the door's lock, meddling with it before hearing a soft click noise. "We're in…"

He opened the door slowly, cracking it first to make sure it's inhabitance were asleep. He watched them slumber for a few moments before standing back up and motioning Alfred forward to help him.

'Great, he has his arms around him…' Arthur grumbled in his mind, silently trying to remove the Spanish hands from the smaller Italian. When it was done, Arthur dropped the hands and motioned Alfred to do his job. The boy nodded and proceeded to gently and carefully lift the Italian into his arms without waking him.

The duo snuck quietly out of the door after Alfred gathered up their 'prize' and Arthur had left a nice note on the bed where Romano had been laid.

"Damn good job, Alfred…Damn good job indeed…" He patted the boys back as they made their way back to their own room a ways outside of town.

~~~ Morning ~~~

Spain woke up unusually groggy, uncomfortable and cold. "Lovi?" He groaned, realizing the boy wasn't in his grasp. 'Great,' he thought. 'He left to eat or something…' He sat up, but heard a crunching sound from under his hand when he placed it on the bed beside him. "A note? From Lovi…no…"

"Dearest Captain Antonio,

You need not worry of your Romano's safety and wellbeing. My Alfred and I are capable of taking good care of him while you think over our little discussion. Once you realize what you should do, we shall return your servant and we can converse the details of our new ally ship.

Good day, Captain Arthur Kirkland"

"So," Spain started lowly. "In other words. If I don't answer yes…Lovi is a goner…"


	7. Chapter 7

"Let go of me, dammit!" Romano screamed, kicking and howling curses and threats as Alfred threw him into an empty room, quickly shutting the door before he could crawl off the floor where he was thrown. He had woken up as the American moved him out of his tight embrace so he could put him in the room. But, when he found he was no longer in Spain's safe arms, he yelled and tried his best to get away from his former playmate, but to no avail.

Once it was locked, Alfred went back over to Arthur, trying his best to ignore the yelling that continued through the oak door and kicks that sent annoying bangs through the cabin they had settled into.

"Do not look so worried, my love. I promise you, this will help us and our countries. We aren't going to hurt the boy as long as we stay here. We're just steering Spain into the right direction." Arthur cooed to him softly, not fazed at all from the commotion and ran one gloved hand through the caramel hair of his underling. He pushed himself forward, his thin lips pressing softly onto the other's tanned forehead. He knew Alfred's natural love of being the hero, acts of doing what was right and yearning desire to do nothing but service others. It did make pirating a bit difficult sometimes, but they had learned to deal with it and adapt to where it would suit everyone in the crew.

Arthur also knew the boy loved him but would do anything in his power to stop him from hurting the annoying, little Italian they now held prisoner or Spain even though he had clearly been hurt by the boy's words. He could act naive and was very childish, but when it came to being the hero, Alfred was physically suitable and mentally enthusiastic.

That was why Arthur often had to be cautious with what plans and problems he told Alfred. He would never lie. No, he would never lack such honor or be so disloyal to his love as to lie to him. But, sometimes, he knew there were things Alfred didn't want to know, and so he would never tell.

The Brit's arm wrapped around the younger boy's waist, pulling him closer against him as his other hand kept trailing gently through his hair. "I shall meet with Antonio as planned after sunset in the bar. There, we will finish our discussion and we shall see if he will finally accept and let the English rule take over Spain and all his other colonies! He is bound to fall if he doesn't. All the land he owns near your country and now south Italy. It's like that fool is trying to throw himself into bankruptcy. And he shall unless he agrees with allowing us to take over and to aid him and his poor people." The Englishman mumbled into the boy's hair.

So, once again, the crafty pirate told Alfred everything he would want to know, but not what he wouldn't. The only thing he had failed to mention on behalf of his lover was his plan to keep and expose of the irritating Italian if Spain were to still refuse next time they meet. But, he was sure that wouldn't happen.

~~~ Elsewhere ~~~

"What do we do, Captain?" One of the random crew members asked, rain pouring down but they had all come back to the bar later that day. He sat with some of the others, most still sober and listening in worry. They had worked so hard to get that brat and claim South Italy for their own, and then that ignorant Brit just comes and takes him away! They would have none of it!

"We will kill him!" One shouted angrily.

"Hang him in the gallows!" Yelled another.

"Burn him like the witch he is!" Still crazy, violent ideas sprang up like wildfire before Spain called for attention.

"No. No! We can't, no violence. That wouldn't help us at all. I know Arthur's ways better than you all, and I can tell you now he isn't one to spill any information even if you beat him black and blue." Antonio sighed, shaking his head. He didn't want to accept, he couldn't! But, Romano needed him and he had no idea where to look for him. He had already sent many of his underlings to search but so far none of them have found a hint of Kirkland's crew or Romano.

"No, no violence. Let me handle it. No matter what happens, do not get involved. This is between me and Kirkland alone." The Spaniard uttered threateningly, standing up and walking out into the chilly rain. 

"Artie," Alfred whined, listening to the boy still bang on the door. Though it had slowed down and wasn't as loud now that the hours had passed. Obviously the Italian had gotten much more tired and Alfred was sure he could hear sobs on the other side. "Artie, Lovino is so miserable. Could I at least go in there to try and calm him down?"

"But then he might escape when they door is open. Just wait a little longer. Eventually he'll tire out more and won't be able to run at all. Then you may go in and bring him some food, alright?" Arthur replied smoothly, running his fingers through Alfred's hair as his head sat comfortably in his lap. The younger male's arms were around his thin waist and Arthur liked having his underling lying in his lap and hugging his torso close as he was. It calmed him as he sat there, looking over maps and such.

Sure enough, less than two hours later, Lovino had only enough energy to lay down on the cold ground and cry. His panting breaths warming the floor next to his stony body but his eyes were blinded by the bitter tears that ran down his face, stinging in his eyes.

"Lovino?" Alfred whispered into the dark room where he was kept. He pushed the door open a bit more so that the candles in the other room would illume into the colorless one he was stepping into now. He frowned hurtfully, watching the boy cry in front of him. He grabbed an extra candle, holding it up and closing the door behind him. In his other hand he held a plate of food.

"Lovino-" He tried again.

"Get the hell away from me you damn bastard!" The Italian yelled hoarsely, burying his hate filled face in his trembling hands. "Get away from me! Just let me die without having to look at your face!"

"Lovino! W-We aren't going to kill you! We just need you here so Artie can talk to Antonio and get the treaty settled. Here, you should eat now." He told him, holding out the plate and placing on the ground beside his head.

Lovino stared hungrily at the food. But, it was English food, wasn't it? He didn't want to risk food poisoning…

"I thought you said you weren't going to kill me…" He muttered sarcastically, poking the food as he sat up.

"Huh? We aren't. Oh! No, eat it, it won't kill you either. I promise. It's something we got out of town." Alfred encouraged, knowing full well not many people liked English food. He didn't understand why though, it tasted fine to him.

Romano picked slowly at the food, taking small bites as he tested it. It was fine, he guessed. Not as bad as English cooking, that was for sure.

"So, I thought maybe, we could finish our game while Artie is gone." Alfred asked, reaching into his pocket and pulled out some marbles. He sat on the floor with the Italian and set the game up.

"He's not here?"

"Arthur? No. He left to talk to your Captain." The American explained simply. "Alright, we're ready to play!" He laughed, settling the candle on the ground so they could see the marbles better.

Lovino felt a chill of fear go through him but not because of Alfred. He was alright, actually, and he thought they could be friends maybe. But, this feeling left him colder and all he muttered was a quiet, "Yeah…" Before making his move with the marbles.

~~~~~~

"I'm glad to see you made it, Captain Antonio. I was getting afraid you wouldn't show up." Arthur mused casually, taking a drink of his rum.

Just like he had said, The Englishman was waiting on the same stool as before, sucking rum from the glass.

"You didn't leave me much of a choice, did you, _Captain_ Kirkland."

"Right. Now, sit down and grab a shot so we can do what we came here for."

Spain walked over, back straight and his glare showed none of his worry and fear as he sat beside the Brit.

"Well, do you have your answer?" Arthur asked slyly, his voice quiet as he spoke into his jug.

"I do." Antonio replied, taking a sip from his own he had received.

"Well? Have you finally come to your senses then, Captain?"

"Si." Antonio answered. "If you let Romano go, and give him back, I will sign your treaty."

A wide grin spread sadistically across the triumphant Brit's face. "Of course, Antonio! That was the deal, and I am a man of my word."

"Si. Si. Now, go bring me Romano so I can get this over with." He growled.

"Ah, not so fast, my friend. Can't we just sit here for a while and celebrate with our drinks?"

"I'd rather not…_mi amigo._" Antonio grumbled, not liking having to be nice to this man beside him. "Can we please just go on with our agreement with such pauses?"

"Ah, but how else will my crew have enough time to get that annoying brat onto our ship before we set sail?"

"Wh-What?"

"Of course!" Arthur laughed. "You didn't think you were going to get him back, did you!"

Antonio boiled angrily. "But in your letter! You said you would return him to me!"

"Of course, of course! And we shall. After we bring him with us back to England and get this whole deal settled! You and that brat shall belong to me and if you change your mind and refuse now I will kill him without a second thought!" Arthur threatened. "So, you either let me bring him with me for now or let him die. Which will it be?"

The Spaniard shook in fuming anger. "You bastard!" He hissed, his hands in fists as they trembled before one lifted and shot for the Englishman's face.

"Wh-What? Bloody hell!" England yelled angrily, now on the dirty floor, touching his face where he had been punched. It stung and he knew it would be bruised later. "You damn Spaniard! You'll pay for being so ignorant!"

The Brit swung his own punch after he climbed off the floor. They went back and forth before rapidly the entire bar was in uproar and throwing punches and smashing chairs over one another's heads.

"He'll pay. He'll pay!" Arthur repeated, barging through the bar doors and started running towards the cabin where they were all settled. He could hear the thunder and see the flashes of lightening through the howling winds. But, they rain was light and not pouring like earlier.

"He'll pay! Alfred!" Arthur yelled when he crashed through the cabin door. "Alfred! Crew! We're leaving! Alfred, all of you, get to the ship, now!" He screamed harshly, his face showing his pure anger. He grabbed two large crew members, making them stay behind while all the others started their surprised leave towards the dock.

"You two. You two are going to help me dispose of the brat!" Arthur spat, just loud enough for Alfred who was just making it out the door, to hear.

He whipped around, his face horrified. "Artie! Artie! You can't hurt Romano!" He cried out.

"Shut the hell up, Alfred! I told you we aren't going to hurt him! We're going to _kill_ him! Burn him alive in this damned old cabin!"

"You promised you wouldn't though! You said you wouldn't harm him!"

"I said I wouldn't until I had Antonio's answer, as long as we stay here and now I do and we're leaving! You! Get Alfred in the ship! Now! We need to set this building afire before the rain comes!"

"No! Artie! Don't hurt Lovino! Please, Arthur! Arthur!" He kicked at the other man, but he was bigger than him and was easily dragged away yelling.

"Alright…come on, let's finish this job. Go find me the rope." Arthur trudged with his underling to the room Romano was kept in. He slammed the door against the wall as he shoved it open, glaring down at the boy. He grabbed the auburn hair, pulling him roughly with him.

"Ah! What the hell! Let me go, dammit!"

"Shut your bloody trap, rat!" Arthur snapped, getting a shocked look from the younger boy.

"Sir, the rope." The Underling came back, letting Arthur snatch the rope away from him.

"What are you doing! Stop! Don't tie me to this damned place!"

"Shut up!" Arthur barked, wrapping the quivering boy to the tall pole that helped hold the ceiling up. He tied it tightly, not caring as it gave Lovino difficulty to breath.

"Get the remaining rum. Pour it around the outside of the cabin and some inside. We need something to help ignite the fire…"

"F-Fire? Fire! You are tying me up to burn! No! Antonio! Antonio!" Lovino screamed, tears starting to stream his face again as he squirmed helplessly. His voice was rough and not as loud as normal because the rope cut hurtfully into his body.

Arthur ignored the pleas though and grabbed a candle in each hand. He just watched the Italian boy scream and try to break free with hatred in his green, British eyes that would send a shiver down Ivan's back.

"Done, sir." The underling announced after a few minutes had past.

"Good. Grab two candles as well and follow me out. It's time this brat dies and ends this trouble of ours." Arthur muttered, not bothering to watch the other do as he was told, as he knew he would. He stepped into a chilly sprinkle, confident it was still dry enough with all the trees covering it and the lack of heavy rain that the cabin would have little trouble burning to the ground. "Goodbye, South Italy." He muttered to the screams still from inside as he threw both the candles to where he saw the rum.

The alcohol embraced the flames eagerly, spreading them without trouble to the rest of the spots of poison the underling had poured around. Arthur watched the flames that both he and his crew member had started, quickly burning higher and grabbing onto the chipping wood that made up the cabin. "Let's go." He ordered, turning around and walking away from the expanding excitement.

~~~~~  
>"Where is he! Kirkland!" Spain bust through the doors of the bar, his glaring eyes shooting around hungrily around for the man he had just found to not be in the bar. "Kirkland!"<p>

"Let me go!" Alfred yelled, kicking the man in the face hard enough for him to release him. He gathered himself and started running, hiding behind a building before the underling could figure out where he went.

"Kirkland!" Spain yelled again, this time, Alfred heard it.

He looked around before spotting the fuming Spanish man.

"Captain Antonio?" The American called back, running up to him hurriedly. "Captain Antonio! Thank God!"

"You!" Antonio yelled, grabbing the short boy's collar and pulling him close. "Where is that low down Captain of yours? Where is my Lovino!"

"Yes! That's what I want to tell you! You have to help!"

Antonio shook his head and let the boy go, forcing himself to calm down. "Alright. Alright. What? Help with what?"

"Lovino! You must go into the forest!" Alfred pointed with a shaky finger. "You have to save him! Save him before my Captain burns him in the cabin there! Look! Smoke, it's already started! Go! Go! You have to save Lovino, please!"

Antonio was shocked to hear the boy. He sounded like he actually cared about his little Italian. He must care, yes, he could see it in his eyes he didn't like the pain and suffering. It was true, he had heard that Kirkland's lover and help wasn't much of a pirate type. But, once he heard the rest, he was in panicked fury again. "Yes! Thank you, Alfred! Thank you! Lovino, I'm coming!" He shouted, running off top speed towards the smoke he saw.

"There you are!" The man who had forced Alfred all the way back to town growled, rubbing his face where he had been kicked. "Come on!"

"Alright," Alfred muttered, but still watched as Antonio quickly disappeared out of sight range. '_Please, let Antonio be the hero this time. Don't let Arthur be a villain…please. Let Lovino live. Please. Please let Lovino live!'_ He turned and walked with the man back towards the ship, his head bowed in shadows the entire way up into the vessel.

"Hurry up, you all! I want this ship gone before I see the flame!" Arthur yelled, having made it back with the other man not long after Alfred and his "escort" had.

The American teen didn't move. He stood at the edge of the ship, watching as the smoke grew darker and darker, showing the fire was getting larger and larger. He couldn't bear to look at Arthur. His heart cracked with the pain of his love, his Captain, his Arthur, being so evil as to kill Lovino who Alfred saw no reason for him to be. He whispered softly, the yells, stomping movements, commands, everything from the rest of the crew were muted in his mind as he thought. "Please, God. Please, let Antonio get to Lovino in time…"


	8. Chapter 8

Spain rushed towards the smoke he saw. Darkening, the murky smolder illumed through the horizon the tops of the trees made as he ran. Soon enough though he made it to the flames licking tall and crackling loudly, daring him to come closer. He glanced back and forth, running around the cabin that he could barely see through the threatening blazes.

He growled in infuriation, huffing as the heat made the sweat pour from him. "Damn…" He muttered, but froze as the faint noise of horrified screams was heard over the laughter of the fire.

"Lovino…" Antonio whispered softly, knowing it was him. "Lovino! Lovino! I'm here!" He shouted back, unsure if his was heard over the cries of the flames. "I'm coming, Lovino!"

Again the Spaniard searched desperately for a place the fire did not engulf so he could get into the cabin. Again, he found none. He snarled louder, circling around until he found the door. Quickly he back up before rushing towards the closed opening blanketed by flames. He hoped this worked…

He felled after ramming the door with his full force, rolling on the floor to consume the fire that burned his nice clothes. He was burnt now but was more concerned with finding his little Italian he could hear screaming still. He stood, running and dodging the flames thrashing out, trying to grab him again.

"Lovino!" Antonio gasped, staring at the flames burning up from the bottom of his dress. Spain knew soon the fire would spread rapidly across the boy's clothes from the end of his wear and scorch more than his legs that it already had.

Tears ran down the screeching Italian's pain filled face. "Antonio! Antonio!" He shrieked.

"Lovino! I'm coming!" Spain yelled, rushing over. He tugged impractically on the bounds that held him there, cursing as Romano kept howling. As the Spaniard finally pulled the boy's arms free, he watched him use his hands to swipe uselessly at the flames on his dress that were burning his skin.

"Lovino! Stop! Stop, here!" Spain cried, jerking his own jacket off and using it to try his best at beating the flames.

When they were out, Lovino sobbed against the Spaniard that pulled him close, lifting him in his arms bridal style. "Hold on, Lovi." He whispered to him, knowing he couldn't hear him over the roars of the fire and his own cries. He tried his best to ignore the black, rotted skin that had been the smooth, tan flesh of his underling's legs where the fire had been and his hands where he had tried to swipe at it. The fire had burned him enough Antonio could see the blood dripping from him and the skin besmirched. "I'm so sorry, Lovino…So sorry."

Antonio held him close as he ran again, back towards the door. The wood forming the lodging had begun to fall, smashing roughly onto the ground below where the two nations stayed trapped.

"Dammit!" Antonio slurred loudly as the fire grabbed at him again as he reached the way that had been the door but was now filled with the bright heat.

"Captain!" Antonio heard suddenly, his head jerking towards one of the windows. He saw his crew who had been looking for him, and many townsfolk who had come to help stop the fire. "Captain!"

"Here!" Spain shouted back hoarsely, but knew he had been heard. He turned, searching what was left of the building for a safe way out. The only thing he did find were the stairs to the second level where most of the flames had yet to engulf. He looked back down at the crying boy in his arms, the hazel eyes squeezed shut in terror and pain. He had to get Lovino out…

He sprinted up the stairs and back to the side of the cabin where he had seen his crew. He laid the Italian down, careful of his legs, and opened the window. Growling, it wasn't big enough for him to fit Lovi through. He looked around before finding a crate he figured was filled with old, invaluable things and lifted it above his head. Thrusting it as hard as he could, it smashing the rest of the window so it left an empty hole. "Alright…" He stepped back to the opening and called out. "You! Peters and Gabriel! Catch Lovino!" He commanded to the confused looking two. But they nodded as Spain returned to the window with Lovino in his arms again.

"Ready, Lovi? I'm so sorry…Please, forgive me…" He kissed the boy's head. Only then did the hazel eyes greet his own emerald ones.

"B-Bastard Antonio…what are you doing…?" He moaned weakly, the tear filled eyes glancing around, only then did he realize he was being held out of a window at the second story. "Wh-What! No! Antonio!"

But the Spaniard kissed the boy again and carefully tossed him from the tall window down to the two men he had ordered to catch him. He watched quietly as Lovino landed screaming in their arms, and the one he had called Gabriel pulled the Italian into his arms like Spain had done because he could no longer stand on his burnt legs.

Antonio couldn't help but smile at the sight of his Romano being safe. But upon hearing his men yell for him to jump as he had thrown Lovino, he readied himself to be caught when he heard an uncomfortable squeak. The noise was loud and Antonio knew he didn't have the time to jump as the noise rose gaudier and swiftly the floor collapsed under him, dragging him back down into the flame submerged rooms of the first floor.

"Captain!"

The storm screamed on, singing abusively to the crew of Kirkland's ship as it made its way out into the shaded waters.

"Hold your places!" The soaking Captain yelled vulgarly as rain slammed against the group. The vessel danced with the great waves without mercy and the crew was uncomfortable.

Even Alfred, who had been focused solely on praying that Antonio would save Lovino, had moved away from the edge of the boat of fear he would be grabbed and dragged down into the unsparing waters. How crazy and angry had Arthur had to have been to go out into this kind of storm?

Alfred stumbled across the planks of the ship towards the glaring Englishman. "Arthur! Arthur! Arth-" He yelled before he was thrown off balance and landed harshly at the older man's feet by the rocking ship.

"Get up, Alfred! And it's Captain Kirkland!" England barked to the shocked boy on the ground. He hadn't told Alfred to address him like that since when they first met…

"Get up!" He ordered again, this time the American growled and climbed back onto his feet.

"Why! Why would you do that to Lovino!" Alfred hissed in return, the older nation glaring at him warningly.

"You have no right to question your captain, boy! Go help the others now!" Was the Englishman's only response.

"I refuse to obey such a cowardly devil!" Alfred spat, his hands in fists at his sides.

Arthur snarled, lifting his hands before thrusting it across the younger male's face. "How dare you speak to me that way after what I've done for you! You are a pirate, as am I! We aren't the heroes, twit! You obey your captain! You obey your savior! William! Take him down now!" The angry captain commanded crudely to a close crewmember, grabbing Alfred's shirt and throwing him towards the man who grabbed him promptly.

The younger, American boy was stunned. Arthur had…hit him? Hit him!

"Captain Antonio will save him!" Alfred shouted as he was dragged towards the little door that lead to the lowest point of the ship where they kept prisoners. "Captain Antonio will be the hero! He will, damn bastard Englishman!" He struggled before being heaved below, and that was the last of his screams Arthur could make out before he was hauled under deck and thrown into one of the icy cages.

"You wish, boy…" Arthur muttered to himself, the wind striking against him with the raindrops. None of the sounds of the howling wind and outcry of the waves or crewmen distracted Arthur from his thoughts as he stood there.

Maybe he was too rough on Alfred…maybe he could hear him out…maybe…no! He was Captain, and he realized now how he'd let the boy off the hook too many times, he'd become arrogant. No crew member, even his lover, was to talk back or question him!

He clenched his teeth together roughly in anger and snapped back into reality. "Keep it steady, men!" He directed stridently. "We're going to Italy!"


	9. Chapter 9

"Where's the Captain!"

"The floor collapsed!"

"He's in the fire!"

Spain could hear the shouts from his crew, but they were faint and remote. His tan body was smothered in agony as the blazes grew nearer, but he couldn't force himself off the ground. He was unable move at all, actually, and the stinging tears were mocking him in his wide eyes.

"D-Damn…" He choked out, straining his neck to look around. But as he did, his blurry gaze was greeted with nothing but more flames dancing slowly closer.

He had to get out now!

The aching Spaniard slowly got his right arm to shift so he could push himself up. He stared down at himself. Pieces of glass and wood were jabbed into his flesh, blood spilling from him in numerous places. He glanced at the horrible bruises on his right leg and left arm, staring at their odd angles with remorse. Both were now visible due to his pants and shirt being ripped by the fire and his fall.

He clenched his teeth, knowing that meant they were both broken and he couldn't get out with a smashed leg.

But he had to try…

The tan Captain growled, using his last two useful limbs to push himself into an unsteady standing position on his left leg. Knowing he couldn't risk moving his other leg, he spread out his right arm for balance and started to hop to find an opening to escape.

"Captain! Captain where are you?" Antonio heard suddenly. His burning throat coughing out the loudest reply he could with his weakened state.

"Here! I'm here!" He coughed, the smoke swirling into his lungs now. His vision became hazier as he jerked his head around, searching for the person that accompanied him in this place.

"I'm here…" He mumbled now, his eyelids lowering as his body wobbled.

"Captain!" The crew member shouted, finally finding his Captain unmoving and fallen on the gravel covered floor. He carefully lifted the man over his shoulder, turning back towards where he had come in before rushing forward.

"Captain! Get him aid! The doctor!" The man with Antonio on his shoulder yelled, laying the burnt man on the chilly dirt away from the fire.

The half unconscious Spaniard looked around, everything mute in his ears and his eyes were still almost useless now. But, he stared over, seeing a familiar, little form beside him on the dirt.

"Lovino…" Spain whispered to the unawake boy beside him. "Lovino…I'm back…I promised I'd get you out…I love you." He shivered, but moved his good arm, lightly caressing his underling's dirty cheek before passing out as well. "I'm sorry."

~~~~~ The next night ~~~~~

"It's good to have you back, Captain Antonio." One of the members chimed, looking over his bruised and burnt leader.

The mass of the pirate crew was spread throughout the bar now, all laughing and celebrating the lack of death of their Captain.

Antonio grinned, his leg and arm still unusable, but they were wrapped securely in wooden splints. "It's good to be back, gentlemen!" He cheered, raising his bottle of rum.

It had been yesterday night that the town's people had helped put out the fire after Antonio was rescued from the burning building. Romano was resting in his and Spain's room, being watched over by Gabriel, the pirate that had caught and kept him safe while the others tried putting out the fire. The man was tough and very loyal to the Spaniard.

Unfortunately, Spain was told the boy's legs weren't broken, but to badly burnt and he would be unable to walk for a while. He cursed Arthur for doing that to him.

"Alright, men, tell me now." The Captain started seriously now. "Is that damned Kirkland still slithering around here?"

"No, sir!" One of the men answered quickly. "Me, and a few others, we saw him undock and go out into the storm, sir!"

"Into the storm?" Antonio repeated in disbelief. Even that crazy Englishman wasn't that senseless to risk his entire crew to go through that! "Are you sure?"

"Si, sir."

"Idiot Englishman…"

~~~ On Kirkland's ship, ten days later ~~~

"Captain Arthur," A young man greeted politely. "Sir, Alfred wants more food, sir."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "So? He knows the rules. People in the prisoner chamber get food once a day. He is to be treated no different." The Englishman snapped, looking over his slightly wrecked ship.

The storm had been a bad one. It smacked their vessel about, but they had made it out of the tall waves and grabbing wind within five days. Now, they were almost to the land of Italy and everyone was rested from keeping the ship from falling apart before.

"Captain! The land is in sight!" He heard, a grin spreading across his face.

"Prepare to dock, men!" He commanded back before looking back down at the younger man who'd come about Alfred. "I change my mind, bring me Alfred's second meal for the day. I'll bring it to him."

"Yes, sir."

It only took a few minutes for the food to be brought to him, and Arthur took it as planned. He tread away once he had it, stepping casually towards the prisoner chamber.

Alfred glanced up, his face pitiful and pale. "Artie?" He questioned, suspicious but kept his ocean eyes on the older man. "I want food, Artie!" He whined childishly.

Arthur shot the boy a glare, but quickly retracted it, and put back his grinning, serene exposer. "I told you, it's "Captain". Remember, Alfred?" He spoke smoothly, now kneeling in front of the caged boy. The boy always did have an abnormal appetite. "Here, Alfred. You must still be hungry." Slowly, he slid the plate into the cage, watching the famished boy grab it eagerly.

"Oh! Thank you, Artie!"

"Captain!" Arthur snapped, but his smirk still remained, twisting his pale face into a horrible form. "It's Captain Kirkland, you twit. And don't worry, you don't have to be so happy about just this."

Alfred lifted his head away from the plate, staring at the man uncertainly. "Wh-Why?"

"Because," The Englishman chuckled eerily, the disturbing sound making Alfred flinch. "Soon, you won't be dining alone."

"Wh-What! Arthur, who…" Alfred shivered. "Who did you capture! Lovino? Captain Antonio?"

"Do not refer to that weakling of a man as Captain. I am your Captain, no one else!" But Arthur recomposed again and chuckled once more, his green eyes staying on the now panicked boy behind the bars in front of him.

"No, neither of them. Actually, we haven't captured anyone yet, but soon, that brat's baby brother will belong to Captain Arthur Kirkland!" He laughed that disconcerting sound again, the noise echoing through the cold lower level.

"Northern Italy will be mine!" He stood again, staring down at the enraged boy that was firing glares at him.

"North Italy? Arthur don't you dare!" Alfred yelled, standing up to face the man. "Don't!"

"What? You can stop me, hero?" Arthur scoffed. "You think you can-ALFRED! Fuck!" Arthur yelled as the remains of the burnt, English food came flying at him from inside the cage. Pieces of scorched fish and bread flew through the spaces between the bars, sticking themselves onto the angered Captain. "Brat!" He slurred, wiping his coat off as he started back for the stairs to the deck.

"North Italy, remember that, Alfred! Soon he'll be your new roommate!"

Arthur ignored the yells from the boy, and drowned them out by shutting the door behind him.

"Ready to dock, sir!"

"Then hurry up! This shouldn't take long." Arthur watched as his ship docked into the port, his men scattered around the craft before beginning to evacuate it. He followed them soon after readying himself properly, stepping onto the sand of the Northern Italian shore.

Those that he had told to come alone with him nodded and followed him, the rest were still on the boat or separated to get more desired supplies for the ship like food and clean water.

No one spoke to the group as they walked, most knew who he was. The feared, merciless Captain, they didn't want to get on his bad side.

His grin was back as he strode proudly through the city, the buildings were tall and worthy of gloating at his sides. Soon, the group met face to face with a beautiful building. Its windows were colored with various rainbows and it was much like a cathedral. Its tops were pointed, and the pale stone, castle-like structure was something to adore.

Arthur made his way up the boulder steps, turning the golden handle and shoving the door open. He looked around, treasures were scattered around neatly like a pirate's utopia and gorgeous paintings hung around the walls. The place was elegant and well-ordered, but he stepped into it and stared around.

"You!" He snapped, noticing a pair of brown eyes staring fearfully at him from behind a corner. It was obviously a maid. "Fetch me North Italy at once! I have something to…discuss with him."

The woman flinched, realizing she'd been seen and ran off.

Arthur was confident she would listen, and smirked yet again as a young boy came into view soon after.

He was lean and childish though it was obviously he was close to Alfred's age of sixteen, maybe fifteen or fourteen. He had shiny auburn hair with an odd curl emerging from the side and bright brown eyes.

"Yes?" He asked, the soft voice noticeably petrified.

Arthur waved at him, motioning him to come closer. "Come on boy, I can't properly talk to you from over there."

The younger Italian shivered, but grew closer. Now Arthur could see he was in a dress similar to his older brother's, but his was a lively green.

"Good boy. You are Feliciano Vargas, correct?" Arthur watched the boy nod. "Good…Angus, Cornelius…If you would please…"

Feliciano gasped as two of the men stepped forward, grabbing him by the arms.

"L-Let go!" He panted, kicking and squirming about.

"I'm so sorry, but we can't do that, you see. You belong to England now." Arthur laughed. "The rest of you, grab what you can and let's get back to the ship."

"I don't think so, Kirkland! You're wanted here, and every other country out there, you're coming with us!" Arthur scoffed, seeing a group of armed Italian men pointing guns at them. "Put Italy down!"

"Don't let go of the brat." Arthur ordered to his crew.

"Put him down!"

"Do not."

"Down!"

Arthur smirked, "If you insist." He said, his pale finger cocking the pistol at his side.

"Wh-What!" The man beside the one who had been yelling gasped, watching his partner fall to the ground dead.

Italy screeched in fear, starting to sob at the sight.

"What? He said down. So, I put him down." The Englishman grinned. "Kill them men!"

The Italian country clenched his eyes shut, but the excruciating screams and insulting laughter from the pirates could still be heard as they attacked his people. When it was quiet again, the boy opened his eyes in hopes of it being a dream. Instead, he cried at the bloody bodies of his fellow Italians.

"Now take him. And you three, kill anyone else who gets in their way of taking him to the ship." Feliciano heard, the grip on his arms being tightened as he was dragged away.

Arthur and the rest of the remaining crew gathered the treasures with their gore stained hands, carrying the items in their arms all the way back to the ship. A few of the men had brought cloth bags to hold things in as instructed, and filled them to the point of overflowing.

"Ready to undock, men!" The English Captain announced once they ship was reloaded with all the men and new items. "And bring me North Italy!"

"Here, sir!" A young man announced respectfully, throwing the shivering boy at Arthur's feet.

"Here we are…" He bent down, grabbing the boy's clothing and pulling him up to stand. "Welcome aboard my ship, North Italy, Feliciano." He chuckled. "Let me introduce you to my lover, Alfred Jones of America." He jerked the boy along with him, back under to where Alfred was imprisoned.

"Arthur!" Was heard from the dirty blonde once he was seen, but the boy flinched with wide eyes as he noticed Arthur pulling another.

"Here he is, Feli. You'll be sharing a cage with him from now on." He shoved the crying boy into the cage with the enraged other. Alfred rushed over and helped lift the quaking boy from the chilly ground as Arthur relocked the cage.

"Arthur! How dare you!" Alfred cursed him.

But the Englishman just grinned more before walking away. "I already told you, boy. We aren't the heroes. We're the pirates."


	10. Chapter 10

"Feeling any better?" Spain questioned softly. He was lying beside the smaller Italian on their bed, his tan hand slowly stroking the boy's auburn hair while his immobile one stayed lazily by his side.

"It's been over a week and I still can't walk because my legs were burnt almost off! Do you think I'm feeling better, idiot!" The Italian snapped emotionally, swiping the man's hand away with a harsh movement.

Though he was happy he did, Lovino couldn't wrap his head around the fact Antonio had rescued him like he did. Still, he was pissed off, alarmed and even more emotionally unstable as usual.

At night he found himself being jerked awake by nightmares of a certain English pirate and flames trying to devour him. Every time, his face was hot and his small body sticky from sweat but he knew the hot tears running down his face wasn't the perspiration. Thankfully, Lovino didn't think Spain noticed when he woke up like this, except for a first three nights where he was shaken awake by the damned Spaniard for screaming in his slumber. He was glad that was so temporary.

Antonio just sighed and rolled over to face him as his hand was slapped away, keeping it missing from his head. "I'm sorry…"

"You should be. None of this would've happened if your stupid ass didn't fucking kidnap me!" Lovino retorted back instantly, rolling on his side like the other, but so his back faced him instead. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to get rid of the rest of the world.

"That is no way to treat your Capitaine!" A strange, new accent spun into the air. Lovino's eyes shot back open, staring around for the strange source. His hazel eyes lying on a tall, long haired blonde with a slight beard and colorful pirate clothes.

"F-Francis?" Antonio stuttered oddly. "What are you doing here?"

The Frenchman chuckled, the sound making Romano shiver.

"Well, you see, my friend. I heard you were hurt, so I came as quickly as I could to help you in your state." The man grinned widely. "Well, me and Matthieu, of course!"

The strange Frenchman glanced behind him, his arm reaching out to someone who stepped forward and he wrapped his arm around…Alfred!

"W-What?" Lovino sat up, ignoring the scorching pain that ran through his injured legs from the sudden movement. "A-Alfred?"

The boy blushed, his cheek color matching the red scarf wrapping around his head. He was holding some sort of bear too, the Italian noted silently.

"Alfred? No! I said, this is Matthieu!" Francis whined. "Though, he is Alfred baby brother…"

"O-Only by a year and a half!" The look alike added quickly, not liking being referred to as a baby. "But yeah…I'm Matthew. Nice to meet you, Lovino. Nice to see you again, Captain Antonio."

"Oh…" Lovino muttered, still in slight confusion. Yes, he could see now. The boy looked a lot like Alfred, but his eyes were a rare violet color Romano hadn't seen before in eyes. His skin was slightly paler somehow, since he was obvious at sea all the time. His hair was longer and slightly wavy and he was shorter. "Matthew…"

"And to you, Mattie." The Spaniard replied with a grin, now sitting up beside the Italian. "But anyway, mi amigo, you really came all this way just to help me out?"

France smiled, though his blue eyes suddenly darkened, glancing at Lovino. "Sort of…"

The Frenchman moved the two wooden chairs that had been put in their room, setting them both facing the bed. "I'm afraid I have some bad news, mon ami." He assembled himself into one of the chairs, his underling in the other beside him.

Both men in the bed staring at the suddenly miserable looking two with curiosity.

"Well, France? What is it?" Spain urged impatiently.

The blonde took a long breath, his darkened sapphire eyes flowing over Antonio before sticking onto the small Italian.

"Well, mon ami, I know that Arthur is the one that brought this trouble onto you but…"

"Wait," the Spaniard stuttered. "D-Did you form an alliance with him?"

"No! As if I would align with that tasteless Englishman!"

"Then what-"

"Shut up, idiot, and he can tell us!" Romano butted in, smacking the man beside him.

"Ah, yes. Anyway, I know Arthur has done this to you…I heard myself from the people of North Italy…"

France watched the small Italian flinch, knowing the bad news must be something about his younger brother.

"Yes, I was going there to meet with Feliciano like I do every few months. I had been told an English ship was spotted leaving by one of my crew members, but I thought little of it. They, though, had obviously not seen my ship." He took another deep breath. "I headed into the city with my crew, most of them running off to get supplies while a few, including Matthieu of course, came with me to that God-like place your brother calls home."

The Frenchman paused, envy making his face twist. But, soon, his features rested again into sadness. "When I made it, they were getting rid of a group of killed men in his home. Their blood was everywhere and as I inspected more, I noticed many of your brother's riches were gone and he wasn't in sight. When I asked what had happened, I was horrified."

"What! Did the kill Feliciano?" Lovino yelled in terror.

"No! No…" Francis answered nippily. "No, they didn't kill him. That English ship, It had been Arthur's. He had gone to Northern Italy and taken your brother as a prisoner on his ship, killing anyone who got in his way and taking his most valuable items for himself."

Romano was trembling madly, his eyes wide with tears.

"Lovi…" Spain said quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder just to get it shaken off.

"Don't give me your bullshit! This is your damn fault!" Romano snapped, tears streaming down his face. "And you! Your brother helped that bastard take mine prisoner!" He glared at Matthew, who flinched with slight guilt.

"Lovi, calm down, it wasn't Mattie's fault!"

"I know, stupid Spaniard, it was yours and you know it!" The boy sobbed angrily, shoving the covers off his injured body. He heard Matthew gasp at the ugly sight of his burnt, black legs but he ignored it.

The Italian grumbled, cursing under his breath as he pulled himself forward more.

"Lovi! Be careful or you'll pull yourself off the be-Lovi!" The shocked Spaniard gasped, watching his underling pull himself off level so he fell, smacking onto the hared floor.

"Lovi! Are you okay?"

"Don't touch me, bastard!" He commanded quickly, his useless legs lugging limply behind him as he used his arms to move. He grabbed onto anything he could, pulling himself away from the others by dragging his lower half on the floor. Now, new tears form in his eyes, now from the immense pain his legs gave him.

"Lovino, wait don't-!"

"Shut up! I don't want to listen to you!"

"You can't even walk, Lovino!"

"Whose fault is that!"

Spain flinched, seeing the hurt glare the boy shot him. But suddenly, as he watched his underling crawl on the floor, the other two just staring, he clenched his teeth.

Spain stood, keeping most of the weight on his left leg. "I think not, Romano." He sneered, moving closer to the cursing boy and grabbing his collar. Soon, he jerked him up so that his feet barely touched the floor. He watched as the boy cried in pain for only a moment before he was tossed back onto the bed. "I told you not to move, South Italy. And the Captain will not be disobeyed." He told him sternly.

Antonio's green eyes dared the younger Italian to try something, but the fear had seeped through and the boy submitted back against the wall, pulling the covers over him again.

"I'm sorry, Francis, Mattie." Antonio sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed in front of them. "Please, go on."

The timid Canadian looked at the ground, but Francis nodded, knowing it was rare when his friend got aggressive, and this little Italian hadn't seen him at his worst.

"Thank you, Tonio. But actually, to what Lovino said about Matthew's brother helping our dear friend Arthur." He said, the last part with his smooth, sarcastic tone. "The towns people gathered some information by over hearing some of the English pirates as they rioted through the city. Apparently, Alfred hadn't helped raid the place."

"No? Well, he must've still been on ship. You know the boy is against all this kind of piracy and evil."

"Well, kind of…" Francis mumbled lowly, taking a moment to pause in thought. Then, his blue eyes looked back at his curious friend. "Alfred wasn't on the ship, he was in it. The lowest point where the prisoners are kept."

"He was taking care of a prisoner?"

"No…he was one of the prisoners. Apparently even Arthur couldn't keep himself composed with his love for the boy after snapping with anger and he's back to his old self again. Surely you must have noticed that ever since Arthur saved Alfred and took him into his crew that the Englishman had been more merciful. Almost like that American had tamed him like some wild beast. But now, Al's stuck in a cage, probably with Feliciano, and Arthur is back into the wild once more and it's not taking him long to wreak havoc, it seems."

~~~~~ Kirkland Ship ~~~~

Alfred couldn't take it. The whiney sobs coming from the curled up Italian shivering in the corner was scorching his ears and tearing his hurt heart. How could Arthur do something like this?

Sure, Alfred had heard the stories of the horrible things of what the pirate Englishman had done before he was part of the crew. But he'd never actually seen him do it before. He felt tears build up in his own eyes, staring irritably at the floor.

How could a valiant hero…love a vulgar pirate this much?

"We're going to die…" Alfred's head shot up, staring at the crying boy on the other side of the cage. "We are going to die, aren't we?"

"No, we won't. You won't be hurt, Feliciano." Alfred replied back, trying his best to comfort him. Though he was sure his confinement was temporary, he was worried about Arthur's plans for Feliciano. "I'll make sure of it."

Captain Arthur had come and gone as the days passed, bringing his prisoners their one meal a day personally. He would stay and talk, usually with an irritable mocking tone. But one day, after the two boys sharing the cage had managed to become friends, Alfred was even able to lift the Italian's spirits, Arthur crushed them once more.

"Hurry up and eat, you two have got a long day ahead of you when we get to Turkey." The Englishman chuckled lowly.

"What?" The American questioned, sitting beside his newly found friend. "Why?"

England's grin turned upward more. "You, North Italy, shall have the privilege of being traded to the Turkish Empire where you'll be a private slave if you, Alfred, refuse the true taste of piracy like you should've long ago! Alfred, you are going to fight one of Turkey's most ruthless soldiers. He has killed many innocent people, so do not take him for granted. If you win the battle, I shall keep North Italy and he will become part of the crew. But if you lose, as I promised Sadiq, Italy will become his slave and he will take over North Italy." The Englishman laughed. "And trust me, Sadiq doesn't have the best record of being kindly to his slaves or territories."

Laughing nastily, the confident Englishman stood up once more and left the two stunned friends in their cage.

~~~~ That Night ~~~~

"Alright, Feli, it has to be around midnight by now, let's hurry and start our plan." Alfred whispered as if he'd be heard. He moved away from his friend to the door, starting to play with the lock holding them in.

"A-Are you sure this will work?" The Italian shivered fearfully.

Alfred grinned as the lock came undone in his hands. "It's the best chance we have to escape. I told you, I'm not going to let him hurt you and I won't fight."

Quietly, the American pushed open the cage door, grabbing his friend's hand and pulling him out with him. "Remember, stay quiet…" If Alfred had learned anything from Arthur and his crew while he was here, it was how to escape being arrested.

The light haired teen tightened his grip on the other's hand as he climbed up the case towards the deck. He pushed open the small door, peeking through the small crack he made. "It's clear, they're all asleep." He informed softly, pushing the door open the rest of the way. "Let's go."

He quickly led the smaller male to the other side of the deck, knowing a smaller boat was stashed under other things to camouflage it.

"Help me move this," he ordered quietly, the two of them pulling a large cloth off the little boat.

"Artie's smart, he knows how to be prepared…" But Alfred shook his head, realizing he was thinking folding of the Englishman at the wrong time.

Once it was uncovered, the two, though mostly Alfred since Feliciano could hardly lift the other end, carried the thing to the side of the ship.

"Grab food and fresh water out of those crates and put it into the boat," Feliciano was told quickly while the other strapped the boat to the proper ropes to be lowers down.

When they were done, Alfred sneaked off as Feliciano climbed into the boat.

"I'm back, I had to get this." He set a few maps, papers and a compass into the floor before climbing into the thing himself. "Now grab that rope and help me lower. If I'm right, we shouldn't be too far away from Greece if we left from North Italy and are headed toward Turkey. We just have to head north."

The two, Alfred tense and upset, Feliciano scared and uneasy, lowered the small boat onto the calm waves of the ocean.

Alfred grabbed two paddles, putting them into position before he started to move them away from the large pirate ship with the compass and map by his side.

"Alright, Feli. Let's get to Greece, we should be there in about two days if I'm right…we can get some help there, and no one will be able to hurt you."


	11. Chapter 11

Romano could feel his icy hands shivering as they pressed against his wet face. He hadn't moved or eaten since Spain had yelled at him, just staying silent or sobbing against the wall on the bed.

The Spaniard had offered to take his old friend to the bar, but the timid Canadian refused the offer to accompany them and stayed with the quivering Italian.

Though still the room stayed silent, Matthew staying in the chair next to the bed. It wasn't until after Gabriel delivered them both dinner and left that Canada spoke up.

"You should eat, Lovino." He told him calmly, getting an aggravated grunt from the other.

"Why? So that bastard can keep me as his slave longer while my brother is probably on his death bed?"

"So you plan to starve yourself to death?" Matthew realized, but kept his composed face. "I know Alfred would do everything in his power to make sure your brother doesn't get hurt."

Romano scoffed. "Yeah, he did a damn good job saving me and keeping his bastard Captain from stealing my baby brother!" He snapped back quickly.

Canada took a deep breath. "Starving yourself isn't going to help anyone, especially your brother if you plan on helping him. You know that."

Another grunt came from the older male and he rolled on his side, his back now facing the other teen. "Just leave."

The blonde hesitated, but sighed softly. "Fine. But I'm telling Captain Antonio…"

"What? That I'm trying to kill myself?"

"That you need a doctor for it."

"Leave!"

The Canadian looked sad as he stood and made his way towards the door. H closed the door behind him quietly, and started walking towards the bar he knew the two Captains would be at.

"Hey, you're…Matthew, right? Alfred's brother?" Gabriel appeared suddenly, running up towards the younger boy.

Canada stared in confusion and shock at the large man towering over him. He was surprised he remembered who he was. "Yes, that's me. You're Gabriel, correct? Part of Captain Antonio's crew?"

"Si. Could you follow me over here please?"

"Oh? Okay…" The Canadian followed silently, wondering what he was supposed to help with as the shadows grabbed onto him and the larger man. "What am I doing?"

A smile crossed the man's thick lips. "Just helping me please my Captain. He told me not to let anything come between him and stealing what he wanted for his own empire. And he wants all of Italy. In fact, I'm sure he won't mind having you part of the crew. Then he can own the country of Canada as well. Good news, that means I won't have to kill you after all."

The ten stopped, his body shivering, though his eyes showed his vast confusion. "Wh-What? Antonio wanted me dead?"

Gabriel snorted, grabbing the frozen boy by the arm and covering his mouth so he couldn't make a sound before he replied. "Not Antonio. Captain Arthur, of course."

~~~~~ Alfred and Feliciano ~~~~~

Sweat dripped down the handle of the wooden paddle, making small rivers on the thin lumber. Sticky hands still held them tightly as the waves tossed their little boat back and forth under the full moon.

Alfred stared out towards the north without a word, his pale face serious and cold. His whole form, the way he stared, the way his body moved as he paddled with what seemed like too much ease for such a chilling dilemma. He seemed completely unfazed by any of this, and it only made the smaller Italian avoid eye contact.

Feliciano just trembled, and tried his best to keep his frightened tears from pouring over.

Hours passed by and the sun started to peek brightly from behind the blanket of the horizon. Alfred was still rowing though Feliciano had eventually cried himself to sleep after bursting into sobs from holding it in.

The American let a smile cross his lips as he watched the infinite blue. If they kept going at this pace, they would be there before evening. Much better time than he had originally figured. It would definitely give them enough time to get there before Arthur came down with their one meal a day.

The smile didn't last long, though as the boy remembered who he was leaving.

"You love him."

Alfred jumped slightly, looking back at the Italian who still leaned his head against the side of the boat tiredly. But his eyes showed life as they stared at the blonde, making him stare back.

"You love him, the Captain. That's why you're acting like this, right? You don't want to leave him. But, you want to help me." The tan boy smiled reassuringly, but the sadness could be heard in his voice. "You represent America, I've heard about you. You're known for being lovable, happy, optimistic and loving to be the hero…but you love a pirate. You love England, the country that takes whenever it has the chance."

Thin lips opened, but only an ugly croaking noise came out. Alfred's throat burned with the truth of the other's words. He stopped rowing, and put his face in his hands. "Yes. Yes. Yes!" He choked on the words hurtfully. "But I've never seen him like this. Never. He's acting like some villain that he hasn't for years."

Italy just watched him quietly before picking up his own paddles again and starting to move the boat while he stared at the other still with his face in his hands.

"But," Feliciano looked back up after looking out at the sparkling ocean. Alfred was facing forward again and proud once more. "The hero doesn't let the villain win. So, let's go."

The American quickly took a hold of his paddles again, starting to move with the rhythm of the Italian's.

More hours passed, the two huffing as they stumbled weakly onto the sand of the Greek shore. The evening greeted them there as Alfred had expected.

"Hey."

Feliciano and Alfred looked up, still panting softly and kneeling in the sand to catch their breath.

Their eyes met a tall man, nicely built with fair skin and wavy brown hair. Sweat dripped off his sharp chin and large, ivy eyes were watching them. He had on a russet jacket and his white shirt was covered in dirt. But it didn't seem to bother him, he must've been working on something earlier to get this way.

It was then that Alfred looked down at himself and over at his companion. They were soaked from sweat and salt water. He saw the Italian's auburn hair was tangled and stressed, and he imagined his was probably the same.

"Hey, you boys need something?" His voice was soft and carefree, though his outward appearance was strong.

"You!" Alfred said suddenly. "You are Greece, are you not?"

The man looked surprised for only a moment before that same emotionless form took over his features once again. "You know who I am? Hmm…yes that's me. Who are you two?"

"I'm Alfred. Alfred F. Jones, sir." The American breathed, standing to face the man respectfully. "America."

"Oh! I'm Feliciano Vargas! North Italy." The smaller Italian added soon after.

"I see…" The man said. "Well, you might as well follow me if that's what you want. I'm headed home. We can talk there."

The three moved slowly, Alfred and Feliciano quickly tying their little boat to a nearby tree where it would be out of the wave's reach and hidden in bushes. When they finally found their destination, Greece excused himself and left the two unsupervised in his home. When he came back, he was changed from the dirty clothing and handed the others new clothes as well.

"You two can change into these for now. They'll be a little big, but it's what I have. You needed me for something?" He bothered.

Alfred's eyes shot up, sparkling with new life. "Oh yeah!" He smacked his forehead. "We need you, Greece, sir. We have a bit of a problem with England and he's added Captain Spain, the Italy's and Turkey into the situation."

The tall man's face twisted at the name of his longtime rival, Turkey. "Oh really? Why my help?"

"You're strong and just seemed well suited for our dilemma, sir." The blonde teen explained. "I guess I should start at the beginning, where the trouble first started when Arthur met Antonio in some small town."

Heracles nodded, giving him permission to go on as he sat opposite of the boy.

"Well, this is what happened…"

When the long story was over, Greece was still silent but his face showed a new seriousness. "I think I can help."

The teens looked at one another, smiles forming onto their faces. "Thank you!" They said together and the happy American could have sworn he heard the surprised screams of an angry Brit somewhere far, far away.


	12. Chapter 12

Matthew cried out muffled screams and pleas though the man's hand blocked them out. He was wiggling, tossing back and forth as he was dragged towards the coast and his energy was slowly being worn out.

They moved across the warm sand, the moon lighting their way across the sparkling beach as they walked. Moving farther and farther away from the little town, soon the only thing Matthew's violet eyes could see when he looked left and right were the dark trees of the thick forest, the merciless waters of the sea and of course, more sand.

Gabriel smiled as a large ship came into view. It was pleasantly decorated, eagles carved neatly into the wood. The bow formed skillfully into an elegant angel, arms stretched out to hug the waters it crashed into.

But this wasn't Arthur's ship…

Still, the thing seemed so acquainted to Matthew though as he squinted, staring at it in awe, he couldn't put his finger on its familiarity.

"Fetch the Captain, I have something for him!" Gabriel ordered, only to get heads shaken at him.

"The Captain isn't here. He went to the city a few hours ago. He should be back by morning, just throw the kid in the dungeon."

The large man growled in annoyance, but pulled the dirty blonde up onto the ship. His bulky hand left the boy's mouth, and he took a deep inhale when he did.

"Where are we?" The teen gasped.

"We are aboard one of the most feared and powerful man's ship." Came the simple reply, darkness draping over the two as Matthew was pulled deeper under the ship's deck.

"W-Who? If this isn't Arthur or Antonio's ship? I thought you were taking me to Captain Kirkland?"

The man grinned. "Why this ship belong to none other than Captain Gilbert Beilschmidt." He explained, ignoring the boy's horrified face.

Captain Beilschmidt was known for being harsh and "frisky" in punishment. But Matthew had met Gilbert before with Francis. He had been so nice, so playful. Of course that was years ago and the three close friends, formerly known as The Bad Touch Trio, had grown apart when Gilbert decided to leave his friends behind.

"I am bringing you to him. But you see, Captain Kirkland made a deal with Beilschmidt. He helps bring the right prisoners to him, and Kirkland pays him in the finest of rewards. Now shut up and get in your cage." The man thrust his occupied arm, causing Matthew to fly into the damp confinement.

"He will be here for you at daybreak."

~~~~~ In Greece ~~~~~

"Alright. Knowing Arthur, he will not turn around and try to find you rowing in the ocean. Still, he'll send out others to instead, so keep a low profile." The Greek told them, a spotted cat slinking quietly up onto his lap.

"Also, something tells me he wasn't really planning on giving up North Italy if you lost against the Turkmen." He noted, his tan fingers gliding across the silky fur of the creature. "But what his true ambitions with this is still unclear."

"We have to figure it out though!" Alfred urged quickly. "Whatever it is, it can't be good if it's like what he's been doing!"

"I know. Calm down, Alfred. We can't rush into this, he'll find us out."

The America huffed and fell back into his seat, slumping clumsily.

"Alright then, you two go get dressed and get cleaned up. When you come back you will eat. You have to get ready for this if we're going to do this right and we have to start immediately." The Greek shooed them off, staying where he was on his chair.

When the two came back, they were clean and better dressed from their torn, worn garments.

Alfred was in light tan, wool stockings tight against his legs and dark brown knee breeches. A coffee colored shirt with long, cuffed sleeves covered his torso. Black suspenders pressed easily into the brown, wool fabric and around his shoulders, matching the black shoes that covered his feet. On his dirty blonde hair hat a tilted, brown messenger boy styled hat, shadowing his face when he looked down.

Feliciano's new outfit was similar, though his cream colored breeches didn't poof out the way Alfred's somewhat did and were pressed closer against his skin. His stockings were white and shirt and shoes were both the same light tan color with no suspenders. Feliciano's hat was just the same though a litter brown and his auburn hair flared out the sides of it more.

The two found their new leader dozing off in his chair, cats surrounding him without fear.

"U-Um? Mr. Greece?" Alfred shook the man curiously. "Mr. Greece!"

The teen turned towards his Italian companion and shook his head side to side.

Feliciano snapped his fingers, a smile spreading across his childish face. "Here! I've got it!" He bounded off, only to come back with a wooden pail. Water slushed from the sides of it as he used both of his arms to heave it towards the Greek.

This earned a yell of surprise and many high pitched cries of the irritated felines.

"Mr. Greece! You're up! You said we had to start immediately!" Alfred wailed at the surprised man.

"Ah…I did…" He muttered, watching his small, furry friends scurry off in anger. "Alright, follow me." He stood up, soaked, but still trudged mushy through the building.

"Here we are. The kitchen. Help yourselves, and eat as much as you can so you're full. Make sure to relax and go slow though." And the slightly annoyed man walked off again, leaving the teens to find food throughout the large room.

It wasn't long before the Greek returned, dry and looking well rested. He found his own meal, munching slowly, green eyes gazing over the two in front of him.

"I can't take it!" Alfred cried suddenly. "What's the plan? Why are we just sitting here eating?"

"To build up energy. I said just relax and fill up, I'm not sure how easy it will be for us to eat once we leave. And I'm more than sure we won't be able to lounge about either s we should rest now."

"Why? Where are we going?"

"Once we leave, we are headed for Turkey."

Greece left again, leaving the two friends in the kitchen once more. This time though, he didn't come back for almost two hours.

"Where have you been?" Alfred and Feli asked simultaneously.

Greece smiled warmly at them, his eyes shining with reassurance. "Just getting us ready. Come on, we should get going so we can travel out of Greece by day and into Turkey by night. We don't want to be seen by them."

Quietly he led them out and the trio was greeted by a brown horse strapped to a filled wagon.

"A horse!" Alfred exclaimed happily. He had always loved the creature.

"Yes. A very smart one at that." Heracles noted, climbing to the edge of the wagon closest to the creature, taking a hold of the ropes he used to bind the animal.

"Quickly, get into the wagon." He told them, not bothering to watch them obey. He could hear their hard shoes clack on the wood and them shifting against the items he'd stacked in with them.

"Let's go!" He thrust the ropes with a snap and the horse took off, jerking the boys in the wagon with a cry.

They raced through the streets, of town down across the sands of the Greek beaches the boys had washed up on.

"Why are we going back here?" Alfred asked loud enough for the horses heavy steps to be muted. "Isn't this the wrong way?"

"It is. But we must to be close to the shore line anyway. Besides, we need that little boat you came in. Where'd you hide it exactly?"

"Oh! Um…there! Behind those bushes!" Alfred pointed forward, leaning over the side of the wagon carelessly.

"Wait! No!" The American gasped, falling forward onto the warm sand as the thing came to a quick stop.

The Greek stood, jumping off beside him once the horse was settled. "You alright, Alfred?" He asked, watching the tall boy nod.

"Yeah. Let's get the boat!" He skipped off, swiping at the bushes in his way. "Now! See, told you it was here!"

The two heaved it onto the wagon, Feliciano pulling it from the other end. Once it was settled, they climbed back on and their adventure began.

I won't let you be the villain, Artie. I promise I'll save you from this!


	13. Chapter 13

"Thank you, mi amigo." Spain breathed gently. He and his French companion moving slowly through the empty street towards the Spaniard's room. "You do know how to make someone feel better."

"Oui. Of course, Antonio. You are my friend." Francis replied soothingly, one arm wrapped tightly around the other man for support. "Let me get the door."

The blonde grabbed the handle, pushing open the wood to see only one teen in the room now.

"Oh? Did Matthieu already leave?" France looked around, bothered by this.

"Yeah." Lovino grumbled from under the covers. "He went to see you guys and then went to his room."

"Came to see us?" Spain butted in in confusion as his friend helped him into a nearby chair. "But he didn't come visit us."

"Then he must've listened to me and went to bed!" Romano growled loudly, wanting the two to be quiet.

The Frenchman signed softly, but let a smile graze his lips. "Ah well…then I guess I should be doing the same, mon ami. Goodnight, Antonio, Lovino."

Antonio smiled weakly at the look of his worried friend. "Goodnight, Francis. Tell Mattie I said goodnight as well if he's still up when you get back."

The Spaniard sighed after the door closed again. It was just him and Lovi again.

"Why are you still up?" He decided to ask.

The Italian growled under the blanket and rolled on his other side. "Shut up dammit…"

"That wasn't an answer…"

"I said shut up! I'm tired!"

"Then why aren't you asleep!"

"Because if I fall asleep before you, your jerky ass will rape me again!" Romano cried.

Yes, he knew he had been wipe awake the first time it happened. He didn't need reminding. But he was afraid if he did fall asleep, it would be more likely to happen again. Especially since that damned Spaniard was coming from the bar.

Antonio stared at the lump under the covers that was his underling, but sighed again and looked down. "I'm sorry Lovi…"

"Just shut up…"

"But I-"

"Mon ami! Mon ami! Antonio!"

The same, long haired Frenchman burst back through the door. Sweat drenched down his tall form and his blue eyes showed nothing but panic and fear.

"France? What is it?" Spain stood, though had to catch himself on the chair before his hurt legs gave out under him.

"Antonio! Matthieu is nowhere to be found!"

"What do you mean?"

"He's gone! I checked our room, It hadn't been touched since we left this morning. Then the bar to make sure he hadn't come after us there. Still no sign! I asked my crew and men from yours even, no one has seen him!" The man wept frantically. "My Matthieu! He's been stolen!"

"That's nonsense." Antonio replied easily. "He must've just gone off somewhere you haven't looked ye-"

"Sir! Captain, Antonio!"

Spain and France looked up to the man in the doorway. Romano listened carefully through the blanket.

"Gabriel? What is it?"

"Matthew! I saw him!" The large man wailed, breathing heavily. He had obviously been running. "Someone they-someone kidnapped him! I followed them as long as I could but they got away! So I came running back here!"

France cried out in agony then.

"My Matthieu! Which way did they go!"

"Down the coast! To the west, that way!" He pointed in the direction opposite than he had taken Matthew earlier that night.

"I'm going after them!" Francis announced quickly, hands forcing themselves into fists by his sides. "I'm bringing my crew!"

"Wait! France. Maybe I should come too, just in case. We don't know who we're dealing with. You think it might be Arthur?" Spain added.

"Non, mon ami. He wouldn't come back here. Besides, when I saw his ship sail it was headed the other way." The blonde stepped away from the rest of them.

"Wait, Francis!"

"I will be fine!" He snapped back. "And I shall kill the one who took my Matthieu away from me!"

"No! Stay here for a little while, please Francis. If they came once, they'll come again!"

"You don't know that!" The Frenchman cried.

Antonio sighed, rubbing the back of his head. No, he didn't know that. But he had the hope they would.

France clenched his teeth. "I'm goi-"

"Gabriel!" Spain yelled in surprise.

"It's for the best, Captain." The large man grabbed the Frenchman's limpy shoulders before he had the chance to fall to the ground. "I only hit him hard enough to knock him out."

Spain growled. "Never hurt him again!" He commanded harshly. "Set him in the chair and go to your cabin."

Gabriel did as he was told without a sound. He stepped to the door, "Goodnight, sir." He muttered roughly, and snapped the door shut.

"Sir," A young crew member cautioned softly. "The prisoner Matthew, the nation of Canada, is below deck in the prisoner's chamber."

A strange grin spread across the face of the pale man. His shaggy hair shone silver in the new sunlight and his eyes were glowing crimson. He was dressed nicely, in dark blue robes, fancy as a pirate Captain of his status should. "Good." He replied easily, a laugh escaping his lips. "Send Ludwig to fetch him for me. The most awesome pirate Captain shouldn't be kept waiting!"

"Yes sir!"

A few minutes passed, and Gilbert was getting annoyed. Where were Ludwig and his newest prisoner already?

"Gilbert," The muscular blonde grunted, pulling along the smaller Canadian. "This is Matthew."

"I told you to call me Captain, Ludwig!" Gilbert whined in reminder.

Ludwig seemed unfazed and shook his head. "What do I do with him?"

Again, he grin returned on the Albino's face. "Let me take care of him for now. Now that we have returned from our trip into the city, we are ready to leave this hidden port and towards the little town Gabriel is residing in with Spain, France and southern Italy." He told his first mate, and little brother. "I shall capture Southern Italy and take both him and Canada to England. And I shall finish up my unfinished business with Spain and France."

"Give Canada here, you get the crew ready to depart and do so when you please, Luddy."

"Yes, sir." The German murmured, letting the other take the Canadian from him and walk off with him.

"Alright…Men! I am in charge for now, get ready to sail! We leave in half an hour! Get to work! Now!"

"Ahh! My head!" France groaned in pain. "Eh?"

He cleared his blue eyes, blinking uncomfortably. "A-Antonio? Antonio! Wake up! Antonio!"

"Be quiet!" Ludwig snapped.

"How did you get us here?" He questioned suspiciously. He looked around, his friend and his underling were tied to the post beside him. They were both knocked out and France noticed they were all on a ship. Unfortunately, it was one that was all too familiar to the man.

"It was simple, my old friend. Gabriel took the honors of knocking you out early. Next it was easy to do so with the others while they slept."

France growled, that voice. Only one person could have that voice.

"Gilbert! Let us go!"

That laugh…that same old laugh…

"Why would I do that? I have to say I have it pretty good like this. Our plan turned out better than we could have hoped."

"Our plan? What plan! Who?"

"All in good time, by old friend. For now, I should tell you not to worry about your crew. Both yours and Spain's are in the prisoner chamber under my ship."

"And where do you plan on taking us?"

He laughed again. "We are going to Turkey."

"Antonio! You're awake, mon ami! Thank goodness!" France sighed in relief, watching the Spaniard groan in pain.

"Dammit, where are we?"

"Seems Romano is awake as well." France grinned weakly.

"Why the hell am I tied up!" The Italian noticed quickly, starting to scream. He felt just like he did in that cabin. Tied up and burning in the fire.

"Shut up!" The Prussian cried, covering his ears as he walked up.

"Gilbert?" Spain gasped, pushing uselessly at his bounds. "What? Where-Gilbert!"

The Prussian laughed loudly. "Ludwig! Please, bring me my new toy!" He commanded quickly. "I'd love to show them their future!"

"Yes sir."

Walking away, it didn't take long for the German to step back onto the deck. This time though he had with him a smaller male. He was wearing nothing but ripped pants and limped painfully across the planks of cold wood. His pale body was smothered in bruises and slashes. He wobbled with the German like a zombie on puppet strings, not even able to lift his bowed head.

"Oh my god…" Spain whispered in horror at the sight. The three tied up gawked in awfulness.

"Give him here." The albino took the boy into his pale arms, holding his gentle like a child.

But this boy was a child, not small but not yet to Lovino's age quite yet.

The Prussia held onto his grin, taking his hand and lightly caressing the boy's chin.

"Greet our guests, my love." He spoke with a new gentleness, though the words burned in France's ears in a mocking manner.

Two white fingers grabbed the boy's chin, lifting his head up so the others could see it.

Lovino started crying, sobbing instantly. That face! So horrible, so disfigured now! Why would someone do that to another human being!

Spain could feel tears in his own eyes, though he only stared in pure hatred and horror.

But Lovino's sobs were nothing compared to the Frenchman near him. He screamed and howled, tears gushing down his face so greatly it started to sting excruciatingly.

This boy's face was bruised worse than the rest of his sluggish body. Cuts took over his cheeks like loving kisses and the violet eyes that bulged out were dim and stressed because of the black and blueness around them.

"Matthieu!"

Days passed slowly.

Beatings were daily.

But still they were not released from their bounds.

"Gilbert," France breath in deeply, his lungs burning with the forced air. "How long are we going to stay like this!"

A new face formed. A colder one, a darker face with a criminal grin. "Only a few more minutes until we port."

"You're here!" Arthur cheered with a clap. "And as you said in your letter, you brought even more than I could have imagined!"

"That's right, England!" Prussia laughed, motioning his crew to untie the three and bring them forward with him off the ship and onto the Turkish ground.

The three stared in surprise as they used the rest of their strength to step off the ship.

"England?" France gasped, fear forming into his face at the sight. The shorter man was known for a lot of things, but loving the French was not one of them.

"It's low, even for you to partner with someone like Arthur Kirkland!" Spain yelled at the albino grinning beside the Englishman.

"Do not talk about Arthur like that!"

The group looked to where the voice came from. It was Alfred standing in front of Northern Italy, both hand's clenching a loaded pistol, pointing it at the group threateningly.


	14. Chapter 14

"What?" The Prussian scoffed, slightly annoyed. His crimson eyes glittered in the bright sunlight. "Is that Alfred? Oh, and Feliciano too! This is just too good!"

The albino laughed, holding his stomach as he did. His head threw back so the veins in his white neck popped uncomfortable looking and his grin widened into a painful form. "Too good!" He laughed again, wiping the mocking tears from his eyes. "Arthur! So it is true about Alfred and Feliciano! I'm so sorry, my dear friend." He wrapped a pale arm around the shorter man's shoulders, smirking up at the teens.

No one else said a word nor moved an inch until Arthur coughed roughly, still being held in an intimately close position to the Prussian.

"It is. These two fools stole a boat and randomly sailed off in the middle of the ocean!" He spit unpleasantly, Alfred clenching his teeth at the slime scorned towards them. Still, he was quiet, and stood protectively and armed in front of the younger Italian.

"Doesn't seem to matter though." He shook his head, but then a cruel grin molded quickly onto the thin British lips. It was one foul enough to match the Albino's beside him. "They still came here to Turkey and now we can still hold together our plan!"

A loud noise boomed through the almost deserted docks. The only living things still were the pirates and their prisoners still forced into disability.

"I think not!" A voice howled, another booming noise shooting through the air.

"What in God's name is that bloody sound!"

"The cannon! Arthur watch out!" Prussia cried, dragging the Brit with him as a cannonball crashed loudly into the planks of the place they stood. The hole gaped on the dock and the two Captains huffed in surprise.

Arthur growled. "Bloody hell! That almost hit us! Who dares!"

"Alfred!" Greece yelled. "Go!"

"Greece!" England gasped, glaring hatefully.

Prussia roared. "Ludwig!"

Alfred nodded, taking Feliciano by the hand with his free one and running towards the group with his gun still raised defensively.

"Don't move! I'm warning you!" He threatened, stopping a few feet away. He let the Italian go, glaring back and forth between the British and Prussian captains.

They stared back, though now the Albino had his scornful grin back and Arthur looked a little sad, though a small smile bred onto his face. "Alfred?" He mused softly, taking a step towards the younger boy. "Alfred. Why did you run away-"

"Stay back! D-Dammit, stay away!"

"But Alfred, my lover. How many times have I ever been able to stay away from you, my love, my precious, Alfred. It broke my heart to see you ran away from me."

"Stop walking!" Alfred screamed. "You locked me away!"

Arthur shook his head slowly, still taking baby steps towards the other. "Because you were a very bad boy. You know I still love you, my precious, precious Alfred. Come back here to me, my love." He opened his arms invitingly, but Alfred didn't move.

"No!"

England frowned suddenly, his troubled eyes turning into an annoyed wrath. "Gilbert…" He muttered, stepping back to where he was beside the albino.

Gilbert grinned wider. "Of course, Arthur. Ludwig! Bring the prisoners forward!"

"Yes sir!" The German saluted quickly, grabbing the robe that banded the prisoners together in a line. "Sir."

"Bring Arthur…my new toy, if you'd please, little brother." The German nodded instantly, typing the rope to a long post that held the dock up before moving towards the same form that was introduced before.

The limp body covered in pain and screamed disgusting was moved towards them while the other three were stuck to the post.

The ghastly head bobbed as it was pulled along and eventually into the Brit's arms.

"Wh-Who is that?" Alfred held the gun pointed towards them with both hands, glaring unknowingly.

"Just come down, my love." Arthur chuckled lowly. "Let's let our little Italian's reunite first…"

"Feliciano!" Lovi cried suddenly, dropping to his knees in pain. His legs had no support now that Ludwig had walked away, and they were still disabled from the fire and the beatings given to them on Prussia's ship. "Feliciano!"

"Lovi!" The smaller Italian went to move, but Alfred stuck his arm out, causing him to stop.

'Wait, Feli. Don't move yet. We'll get him back, but if you go over there now they'll just get you too."

"But-"

"Don't go over there!"

England laughed. "The hero seems to be getting nervous…might as well give him one peace of mind back to him…"

Alfred cocked the gun slowly. "Wh-What are you going to…"

"What asked who this was…did you not, my love?" Arthur laughed, lifting the limp boy's head so his older brother could see it.

"N-No! Mattie! Mattie!" Alfred screamed, tears forming in his blue eyes. They stung, but he was frozen with clenching teeth.

Arthur laughed again, this time almost falling over. "That right, my sweetest love! Your baby brother! And if you don't come back to me, he get the chance to come back to anyone ever again!" The pirate threatened, cocking his own pistol. But instead of aiming it forward like the shaking American was, it went sideways, pressing softly against the bloody head of the young Canadian he held. "It's your call, my love!" He laughed again.

Gilbert smirked, moving away from the Brit without a word.

"How could you do that to him!" The American screamed, tears still building. "Mattie please say something!"

"Alfred!" A French accent called, making him look over. The deprived Frenchman moved sullenly towards him. Behind him the Greek cut away the bind holding the Spaniard and Italian.

"Oh no you don't! Ludwig! Capture them! All of them!" Prussia yelled, grabbing his sword at his waist and running towards the newly freed group with his brother.

Alfred gasped, "Don't hurt them-"

"Focus!" Arthur screeched. "Come back or your baby brother dies with the rest of them, which is it!"

"Arthur! Please don' make me! I love you, I still love you, Arthur! Don't make me do this!"

Arthur stepped back a step, tightening his grip on the Canadian slightly. "If it will get you back, I will, Alfred! Choose!"

"Arthur! Please!"

The Englishman growled, grabbing a fist full of Matthew's hair, yanking it roughly, making him cry out for the first time.

"Mattie!"

He yanked again.

"Please, Arthur, stop it!"

He pulled it again.

"Stop!"

Again, the cries grew louder, more painful.

Bang.

"Arthur!" A Prussian and American accent screamed together.


	15. Chapter 15

It was cold.

The temperature was icy though Arthur could feel nothing but such and a sensation of agony running through him from his abdominal.

The pitiless ocean water swirled past his lips, filling his lungs with a solid force as he searched desperately for air. His emerald eyes burned as the salt plunged itself onto the green orbs, though his tears were evaporated against the shadowy water hindering his sight of anything as it filled with his blood.

"Arthur!"

Though he couldn't hear it, having collapsed rearward into the bitter ocean, cutting off his senses as the pain and shock disabled him as he swiftly floated further away from surface.

"Arthur!"

The Prussian gave a harsh push, making the Frenchman locking fists with him stumble backwards before he started running where he could see blood soil the water.

He stood at the edge of the wood, searching for any sign of movement from the Brit still below.

Alfred gasped, dropping the pistol from his trembling hands as he charged forward, falling to his knees. He ignored the stinging that came with the rough impact and instantly wrapped his long arms around his younger brother who was shivering without a word on the planks. The only sound coming from the other was whimpers and the sound of his quivering body shaking on the wooden docks.

Alfred whispered softly into the Canadian's hair, kissing his head and face over and over while still running his lengthy fingers through the dirty blonde locks. He rocked the boy back and forth like a child, and he did nothing but lean into his older, American brother, closing his eyes and trying to get his sharp breathing back under control.

"Alfred!" Matthew gasped, still shivering in his brother's arms. Tears started to pour down his bloody cheeks. "What did you do to Arthur!"

There was no answer.

Matthew opened his violet eyes again, moving his head so he could see Alfred crying himself. But his sobs were muted and even more painful with regret and longing for his lost love.

"Alfred…"

"Matthieu!" The Frenchman cried, dodging past the blonde German that was preoccupied with Antonio.

"Oh! Mon Matthieu!" The long haired blonde grabbed both sides of the Canadian's face, planting kisses more frantic than Alfred's on his face and lips, crying his name as he did softly. "You are alright. My precious Matthieu. My precious, precious, wonderful, beautiful…"

"Captain…" The Canadian spoke back, letting the Frenchman pull him into his arms, his limp form being drawn from his silent brother. "Captain, I missed you too." Matthew let himself he showered in his overruling's affection, but eventually looked back at Alfred.

The American still hadn't moved. Spain and Romano were still dealing with Ludwig, Prussia was still yelling for Arthur, and Feliciano was crying behind a nearby pole to try and hide himself.

Francis noticed the saddened stares Matthew gave his older brother, but kept petting his long hair.

"Alfred," The thick, French accent spoke softly, watching the motionless form. "You saved Matthieu. You saved your baby brother."

Again, he gave no answer. Only more silent sobs came.

"Alfred, thank you. You did good, you are a hero and-"

"I'm not a hero." But still he did not move.

"Alfre-"

"I'm not a hero! I killed Arthur! I killed my lover!" The teen cried, letting out a howl of pain. "I just panicked! I couldn't stop myself! I was afraid he was going to hurt you again, Mattie! I panicked! I panicked and I killed Arthur!" Again Alfred began sobbing, but this time it was loud and messy. Tears, mucus and sweat all mixed together on the planks of the dock under his arched body and he couldn't stop it from coming.

"Alfred!" Matthew cried, the sudden, loud exclamation burning his beaten throat but still he hobbled messily over to his brother once more. "Alfred! Please, don't cry so!"

There was no reply, only echoes of "I killed him! I killed him!" And vulgar weeps.

"You did, you worthless American! You shot Arthur!" Gilbert shouted abruptly, throwing his arms in the air and spinning around. Tears purged the ends of his red eyes but they did not stain his pale cheeks. "Now the very ocean he once ruled laughs as it carries his spilt blood out into its depths to charm foul sharks!" He screeched, making everyone stop and stare.

"Your insolence! You're disobeying!" He shrieked out. "Your gun! His blood is on your hands! And you shall pay for it!"

"No! Alfred, move!" Matthew screamed, but the Frenchman quickly drug him away from Alfred towards safety. "Move!"

"You will pay!" The Prussian yelled, cocking the pistol he pulled from his captain's jacket.

Alfred simply stared at him quietly, still tears falling over his fallen love on his knees, making no move to escape.

"I'm sorry, my former amigo, but you can't hurt Alfred!" Spain announced, quickly grabbing the albino from behind.

"Wha-!"

The shot fired, missing the American on the ground but flying up and hitting the pole Feliciano was hiding behind, making him shriek and run towards his still burnt, older brother.

"Fratello!" He wrapped his weak arms around his brother who had limped over to join the Frenchman still holding back his young Canadian.

"Feli!" He cried in return, hugging his brother back, starting to cry himself with the happiness of having his baby brother back okay.

Ludwig had jogged over to help his own brother with the Spaniard clinging to his back, holding his arms back from doing any damage.

"Alfred! What are you-" Matthew screamed, watching his brother stand up, his arms flopping around like a doll's lifeless form. He trudged slowly towards the edge of the dock where Arthur had fallen backwards into the water after he'd shot him, staring at it with hurt and guilt.

"But I deserve this, Mattie…I deserve this…"

"Don't! Please, big brother!"

Splash!

Matthew gasped, twisting in his Captain's iron grip. "Alfred! Alfred please, come back up! Please!" He called, the Italians and Frenchman silent as they watched the empty space where the American had stood before letting himself fall into the dark ocean water. The three busy wrestling slowed down, but still fought, taking glances every now and then at the vacant space themselves while the boy's younger sibling yelled for him to come back still.

Suddenly, a laugh was heard. A sadistic sound full of heartless and mocking burst. The Albino's grin was spread wider than ever, though the tears flicked away from his eyes, he kept laughing as the younger twin started to ball.

"Why so sad now, my lovely Mattie?" He mused, pushing the Spaniard away, watching the blonde grab him before he could go after him again. "He was just doing what he knew he deserved. He was only going so he could be forever with his murdered lover!"


	16. Chapter 16

The dock was silent except for the crash of harsh waves against the wooden ships and the pain filled cries of the young Canadian who had fallen to his knees.

Matthew's heart throbbed agonizingly in his wounded chest, and his French captain towered over him with saddened eyes as he watched.

Vacant seconds turned to early minutes, and unbearably measured minutes turned into half an hour gone by.

Still no Alfred. Still no Arthur.

Prussia was done waiting for a miracle to happen and looked away from the spot both of the men had died. Then, he coughed roughly, cocking the pistol he held once again.

"Ludwig, tie up my old friend. I'll get Francis." He ordered, receiving a nod as he pointed his gun towards the Frenchman.

France didn't try to run. None of them did. Matthew just kept crying as Francis picked up his trembling form, holding him close as he was escorted along with the Italians still embracing one another in fear by Gilbert. Spain walked in front of them with Ludwig, and now Francis finally noticed his friend's bad limp. He smiled a little. He was wounded so severely but yet still he fought. A true hero…just like Alfred had been. A true hero.

Dark blue eyes looked down, staring sadly at the Canadian gripping at his captain's coat as he held him wedding style against him.

"Papa…"

France felt as his eyes widened slightly, still watching his youngling lovingly. His Matthieu hadn't called him that since he was at least six or seven. The Frenchman let tears build in his eyes, knowing how his love was hurting unbearably now.

"Sh. Sh, mon amour." He whispered back into the Canadian's golden hair.

"It hurts…" Came a soft replied, the whisper spoken into his coat. "They're gone. Alfred…and Arthur…they're gone…"

The Frenchman kissed the boy's scalp, rocking him back and forth faintly as he walked holding him. "I know, mon amour. I know. I miss them already too. Even Arthur too, I know you miss him as well. Your brother made a better man out of him, love."

"They won't come back."

France paused, keeping his lips pressed gently against the soft hair of his underling. "No…" He whispered finally. "No, but they are together now. Forever, that's all both of them ever truly wanted."

The Canadian cried out again, digging his face deeper into his Captain's clothes as he was carried, letting the tears fall again.

"Sh. Sh. Mon Matthieu." France told him quietly, feeling the boy shake more violent yet again.

"Sh.

Dodo, l'enfant do,

L'enfant dormira bien vite

Dodo, l'enfant do

L'enfant dormira bientôt.

Une poule blanche

Est là dans la grange.

Qui va faire un petit coco

Pour l'enfant qui va fair' dodo.

Dodo, l'enfant do,

L'enfant dormira bien vite

Dodo, l'enfant do

L'enfant dormira bientôt.

Tout le monde est sage

Dans le voisinage

Il est l'heure d'aller dormir

Le sommeil va bientôt venir."

Again he rocked him back and forth gently with both arms, watching him cry until he passed out against him. "My good, sweet, Matthieu. I'm so sorry…"

"Big brother France…"

The Frenchman felt someone tug on his coat, making him look behind him to see the young Italians still embracing but now Feliciano had a grip on his coat.

"Yes, Feli?" The blonde asked softly, looking onto the light brown eyes filled with suffering just like his own blue ones.

"Sing another lullaby. Please sing." Feliciano spoke, watching the man desperately. "It…helps the pain."

France smiled reassuring at the two, and nodded, taking a glance down at his sleep beauty in his grasp.

"Alright. But this time…" He blinked tears out of his eyes, and set a sad gaze though he smiled warily, at the Italians. "This time. Let's sing something for Arthur and Alfred. Something Arthur used to sing every night to Alfred when he was smaller, it was his favorite song and Arthur loved to sing it with him, an old English folk song." Again he blinked away tears, letting them glisten on his cheeks before he began.

He sung once more, his voice silk against the mockingly cold air. A gentle wind from his lips, warming the hearts around but the pain of remembrance still stung painfully in those who mourned the two lost.

"Lavender's blue, dilly dilly,

Lavender's green

When you are king, dilly dilly,

I shall be queen

Who told you so, dilly dilly,

Who told you so?

'Twas my own heart, dilly dilly,

That told me so

Call up your friends, dilly, dilly

Set them to work

Some to the plough, dilly dilly,

Some to the fork

Some to the hay, dilly dilly,

Some to thresh corn

Whilst you and I, dilly dilly,

Keep ourselves warm

Lavender's blue, dilly dilly,

Lavender's green

When you are king, dilly dilly,

I shall be queen

Who told you so, dilly dilly,

Who told you so?

'Twas my own heart, dilly dilly,

That told me so."

Feliciano and Lovino cracked a sad smile as he sang, hugging closer together. Alfred really had made Arthur a kinder man, sadly when that kindness temporarily rested, this all happened.

"Alright, alright, stop your damn singing and get on the cart, prisoners." Prussia growled, poking France's back with the barrel of his gun.

Once they were all on, the five were tied down and Prussia and Ludwig up front, the blonde German grabbed the cheap rope holding the horse and whipped it.

After just a few minutes, the harsh bumps of the cart falling up and down awakened Matthew from his brief sleep. France looked down at him and smiled. "They wouldn't let me keep you in my lap, my love." He told him, wrapping his fingers in the boys, as the Canadian found he was bound to the cart. But still the Frenchman smiled, that sad look still glazing his eyes like clear glass and he began to sing Lavender's blue once again to his companions softly.

Matthew stared at him, but started to sing along, having been sung that same song by Alfred, Arthur, and Francis many times before himself. It was obvious to him why his Captain chose such a song to sing. Eventually, Feliciano began to pick up on the words and sang along too. Then Lovino memorized the lyrics and sang with them too, as well as Spain.

"Gone but never forgotten." France announced, watching as tears started to run down each of their cheeks, and soon he found he had been doing the same. "Never forgotten, two fallen heroes are forever together."

They sang the entire ride through the Turkish lands.


	17. Chapter 17

"We're almost there, prisoners." Captain Gilbert announced with a sadistic grin, cutting the memorable singing off.

"And where exactly is it we are going?" Francis asked harshly. No one had bothered to ask since they were busy ringing their vocals in bittersweet reminiscence, but now worry finally started to smother the group in an anxious blanket.

A cruel laugh fluttered from the Prussians pale lips. "To go meet Sadik, of course." He grinned at the horrified faces and hummed quietly. "Hmm, but since we no longer have Alfred to fight…we need someone else…" His crimson eyes grazed slowly over each form.

Not the Italians, they were practically useless when it came to strength. Not to mention the older one was injured. But so was Antonio, who under any other circumstances would have been the best choice but now he could hardly even walk. That left The Frenchman and the Canadian. The younger sibling of America didn't really have his brothers strength, but he didn't really trust France to fight.

Scrunching his brows together, he frowned in thought until the cart stopped a few minutes later.

A tall, slender, olive skinned man with khaki clothes and a white mask covering his dark eyes, greeted them with a sly smile.

"Gilbert! Prussia! My friend. Where is Arthur?"

"Long story, I'll tell you inside. Right now, Ludwig, escort our prisoners to their room."

The German stayed silent as he nodded and grabbed the rope that bounded them all together.

An hour later, the group was still sitting miserable in a stony, hampered room somewhere underground the Turkish man's abode.

The Italians still hung onto each other, and Antonio had his arms wrapped around Romano while France had one of his around Italy and the other around his shivering Canadian.

"I see."

They heard suddenly, a deep voice growing nearer with low footsteps.

"So, that is the new plan, Prussia?"

"It is. It will work, most likely even better than Alfred fighting."

"Oh?"

"You will see. Open the door."

The footsteps stopped and for a few moments it was silent, but then the door slowly creaked open and there stood Turkey, Prussia, and Germany behind them.

"France." The albino said with a pleased grin. "You are going to fight!"

The Frenchman gasped. "I think not!" He cried in defense as the blonde German grabbed a hold of his arms. "I will do no such thing!"

Gilbert ran a hand through his silver hair and floated into the room with a grin. He stared at the Frenchman, but turned away suddenly, taking a hold of the man's young Canadian instead.

He jolted the boy up and into his arms, hands holding onto him tightly. "You think I won't hurt him? Do you see him now? I did this! Next time I won't show so much mercy!" The albino cried as the long haired blonde yelled and cursed, twisting against his German bounds.

"Don't you touch him!" He hissed threateningly.

"Oh?" He purred again, pulling at the Canadian's hair, making him whine out. "I won't. If you fight."

"Fine! Just leave him alone!"

Again he laughed, mocking in their ears. "Ludwig will prepare you. The rest of you, come this way, you get front row seats."

"Spain..." The older Italian whined sadly. The three of them were sitting on a stone bench in a circular building. The Prussian still held Matthew, sitting with Sadik beside the trio. "What's happening?"

"We are in a coliseum." He whispered back to the boy leaning against him. "Francis…he has to fight."

"Wh-What happens if he loses?"

The Spaniard gulped nervously. "I…I don't think we would want to know."

Lovino started to cry again and soon the place was filled with people yelling and screaming for a blood bath.

"Look!" Gilbert smirked evilly. "There's that perverted Frenchman! Oh, and his opponent!" He stood, keeping a strong hold of the Canadian. Laughing, he threw his head back in a fit. This was all too wonderful!

"Ah, Sadik. I like how this arrangement turned out." He said, taking his seat once again.

"As do I. You truly believe France can beat my top fighter?"

"I do. He knows this," The man pulled on the dirty blonde locks again. "Is what he's fighting for. Trust me, if I know him, he'll do whatever it takes to keep this boy safe."

"He won't need to fight!" A voice called harshly, and when he looked at the top of the coliseum, crimson eyes met with fiery blue ones. "Cause the hero is here!"


	18. Chapter 18

"Al!" Matthew cried, and the group turned to look. "Alfred!"

"Don't worry, Mattie. The hero is here!"

The Prussian growled. "Not for long, he isn't." He hissed in annoyance, standing he let go of the younger boy. His lengthy, pale fingers curled over the handle of his knife strapped at his side. He was tired of this boy. "I'm going to rid the world of you once and for all, boy."

"Men! Watch this battle and cheer for the death of a man! The Turkish warrior, Akbatun against the opposing force, a prisoner of Captain Gilbert Beilschmidt, Francis Bonnefoy! Let it begin!" A voice ran through the stadium as the Prussian climbed the stone steps leading him towards the crouching American.

The crowd screamed and hollered as they watched the Frenchman begin to take on the Turkish man, not noticing the two in the stands with them glaring coldly at one another.

"You will not ruin this, boy." Prussia snapped, watching the teen back away as he finally leveled with him.

Still, the dirty blonde clenched his fists and scowled bitterly. "We'll see!"

"Ha!"

"Al!" Matthew yelled, though his strained voice was evaporated against the shouts of the active audience watching the Frenchman fight.

"Die!" The albino thrust his blade towards the other, clenching his teeth in anger. He was hanging on his last nerve with this kid but now that Arthur was gone, there was no one who could stop him from killing him.

Swinging it again, American grabbed the silver, blood dropping from his palms as the blade pushed into his hand but he held it in place still.

The man grinned. "So, you didn't die after all, huh, kid? Finally decide your precious Artie wasn't worth it?"

Alfred growled. "Don't talk about him like that!" He warned, twitching at the sarcastic attitude the Prussian glowed. He pushed against the man, forcing him to run backwards back down the stone steps he'd come up on.

The albino could all but hide his shock. "What are you-"

"Be gone!" He pushed once more and almost fell over as the Prussian was shoved over the edge of the coliseum wall and fell onto the dirt in the arena. Alfred watched the other land below, dust fluttering up around him in a cloud and the crowd gasped and hollered louder at the sudden excitement. A new contestant!

"Gilbert!" Turkey stood and leaned over the edge of the wall as well to see his friend groan in pain and sit up.

"Al!" The Canadian cried again, stumbling to his brother in pain. "Alfred! Is it really you, Alfred?" Matthew asked, tears pouring down his face.

His brother smiled. "As sure as lavender is blue, Mattie." The American grinned and patted his brother's head but looked up when he heard a new voice.

"Why don't you join him, Sadik?" A Greek accent declared.

The Turkish man turned in time to see a tan man put his hands on his chest, green eyes glaring at him with such hate he felt a twinge of fear mix into his shock as he fell into the arena as well.

Again the crowd went crazy for the addition.

"Alfred, let's go." The Greek man said, looking over at his younger companion, throwing his legs over the wall and pushing himself off he caught himself on his feet as the American did the same and went to stand beside him.

"Did you all really forget about me so easily?" Hercules mused smartly, watching the two stumble to stand.

"That was thorny, even for you, Greece." Turkey booed beside the Prussian.

"Mon ami! Oh, you are alive! Alfred! Is it truly you!" A French accent rang desperately, and the man ran up, falling to his knees as he grabbed onto the boy. "Oh Alfred! Are you alright? How did you-"

"I'll tell you all later, France. Right now," He said, wrapping an arm around the Frenchman and pulling him back to his feet. He could see he was bloody was being hit while battling and he looked drained. "Right now, we have to deal with these three."

His blue eyes moved over to the two nations and Turkish warrior who shifted at Sadik's side.

"Right…" The blonde muttered, standing on his own. "Let's get to it."

"Al! Al!" Matthew yelled, though it didn't seem to matter and quickly his weak voice became hoarse.

Holding himself up with the wall, his body fell limp over the stones until someone touched him and pulled him close.

"It's alright, Matthew. I've got you, we'll get out of here."

The tears blocked his view but he looked up at the form. "Al?" He watched the person shake their head, and he blinked, able to see light, blonde hair that flared up and pale skin and bright green eyes.

"Ar-Arthur!"

"Sh, you need to save your energy, Matthew."

"Britain! Let him go!" Spain stood, he stared at the Brit with anger but with such massive astonishment and curiosity. "I'll kill you, you deceitful lunatic!"

"Antonio, wait! I'm here to help you!" The Englishman stood with the teen him his arms, holding onto his neck for support.

"Liar! I don't know how you survived being dragged straight to hell like you deserve but I won't let you take any of us with you!" He grabbed the Brit's shoulders tightly and his tan fist hit him in the face.

"Sp-Spain! Stop! I need to get you out of here, the guard will be here any minute!" Arthur gasped, holding his throbbing face with one hold and his lover's younger brother still with his other. "If the guards get us, it's all over, you have to trust me."

The Spaniard growled but stared at the shorter man coldly. For the first time noticing the bandages wrapped around his bare torso and the way he arched his back in pain. "Fine, Lovi come here." The tan man went back over to the Italians on the stone bench and grabbed his still unable to walk underling in his arms while Feliciano grabbed into his coat.

"Come this way, and don't' worry about the others, they're going to beat those three and Greece and America know where we're going. They'll meet with us later." England told them, starting to lead them out as quickly as his hurt form could.

"Holt! Prisoners! Stop!" They looked back, seeing the anticipated guards running after them.

"Hurry!" The blonde Brit urged. "Come on, into the carriage! Go!" They crawled into the back of the wooden bearing clumsily, Arthur pulling Matthew to the front with him, he grabbed the rope binding the horse and thrust it sharply.

A shrill shriek came from the creature as it awoke with a jolt, rushing off as the Turkish men yelled.

"Get back here!"

The Spaniard sighed, watching the angry men disappear from sight he moved to the front and looked at the Englishman.

"Where are you taking us now, Arthur?"

"Somewhere safer. Don't worry, we can get help there."


	19. Chapter 19

They rode on, tearing through every little village and town, not stopping at the markets that were scattered around like bombs for wanted criminals.

"We can't stop, Spain. They'll be looking for us, and though I doubt any of these places have a bounty on our heads yet, it won't be long and those stupid guards will be on our tail once they figure out our path." Arthur muttered in annoyance, the Spanish accent rambling in his ear like a tiring bee.

He waved his hand to shoo the man away, urging the horse on farther.

"Arthur, we haven't eaten in weeks. At the most some bread every few days, we're starving!"

"Yeah, well, I was shot and fell in the ocean, you think I feel good either!" The Brit snapped back roughly.

The Spanish man grumbled, crossing his arms he looked behind him at the others. Canada was still limp and dead regarding against the wall of the cart but the two Italians held onto one another in an interwoven embrace that seemed inseparable.

Antonio's back was barely brushing against Arthur's not and he looked down at his sun kissed hands in his lap. "You deserved it."

He heard the Brit chuckle.

"And you haven't deserved what's happened to you?" He smirked, eyes stained the road in front of them mysteriously.

This was met with a laugh. It hurt his lungs to do so, but the Spanish man didn't care. "Maybe your right…"

"Here," England said some time later and tugged at the ropes carefully, the horse slowing to a stop. "Take this money, go buy food for all of us. But make it quick. Normally I would just say steal it but we can't afford to make a fuss right now." He muttered, turning around to face the surprised other. "I'll stay here with the boys and the horse, so don't just stand there or I'll kick you out and leave without you!"

The blonde sighed, slumping groggily. It had been almost twenty minutes since that annoying Spanish pirate left and still he hadn't come back.

His pale arms crossed against his chest and his olive eyes glared sadly at the bandages on his torso. He hoped Alfred would truly be alright.

"England! England!" Italy yelled, causing the surprised Brit to turn around. "Britain! Look, Antonio is coming!"

"Finally, that stupid Spanish f-" He gasped. Spain was barreling down the dirt road towards them, large bags under each arm. His run was wobbled and almost drunken from his previous wounds but that was not the worry that made Arthur clench his teeth. "Hold on you three!" He cried, grabbing the ropes to the horses as the Spaniard made his way closer.

Behind the tan man many uniformed men yelled after him. Faces red and sweaty from running and anger, they bumped into each other to be the first to catch up to the wanted pirate.

"What are you doing, we can't leave him!" Romano howled.

England growled. "Shut up, we aren't! Just wait!"

"Romano!" The Spanish accent called. His long legs burst with the most energy they could before making it to the wooden cart and trusting the full bags messily into it.

"Get in!" The Englishman bellowed, whipping the rope in his hands. Antonio's thin fingers held tightly onto the planks, huffing as the cart moved with a sharp jolt. "Hold on!"

He thrust the rope again, harder as the screaming men behind them waved their swords in the air.

"You damn idiot!" Arthur screeched at the panting man as the angry yells faded out of range. "What did I say about causing a scene? What did you do!"

"I got the stuff, that's what I did!" Antonio fired back. "But one of those local officers recognized me from a wanted poster and I hardly had enough time to give them the slip."

The blond sighed in irritation. "Did you even try to hide your face? What kind of pirate just walks around willy nilly?"

"Hey, I got everything so can it, big brows. Besides, you aren't in a position to be asking questions anyway."

"What do you mean?" He snarled sourly.

Antonio crossed his arms, his Italian underling beside him as they sat against the side of the cart. "You still haven't told us where we're going or how you are even still alive."

"I told you I'd tell you later."

"Well, its later, Arthur. Out with it already!"

"Fine! Fine!" He sighed but the horses rode on. Once again he watched the road with such care Antonio would've guessed it held the face of his dead mother. "We're going to…Russia."

"What!" Spain gasped barging to the front of the cart where Arthur was and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Are you crazy, Kirkland! Are you on a death sentence?"

The Brit smacked the tan hands away roughly as he rode. "Get off me you perverted Spaniard! We are going to Russia, he can help us better than anyone!"

Antonio glared at the back of the other's shaggy head evilly. "He'll enslave us! Torture us! Murder us! What are you thinking!"

"I'm thinking I know what I'm doing! Russia and I have been on…good terms lately. The same cannot be said for him and Turkey, right?"

"So? That doesn't mean he'll help us."

"Alright, here. Russia and I have been allies for a while now. I admit it. Not too close of ones, but close enough that I know he'd help me in a war, a debt problem, and this. So," Arthur explained. "I get his help, there is no way Turkey could beat Russia."

Antonio slumped down back against the wall, but his glare still stayed glued to his drenched face. "I still don't like this. But, that wasn't my only question."

"Ah, yes, of course it wasn't you nosy bastard. Fine, here's what happened." The blonde sighed again, longer and more exaggerated.

"Alfred shot me. That much was obvious to all of us. I never truly believed he would, I love…" Another sigh. "I love him. I really do. I know he feels the same about me too but I guess I didn't realize how far I was pushing him and his love. He wasn't born to be a pirate but I brought him aboard anyway, he was meant to be a hero. I was angry, so angry, I hate you so much Antonio" Arthur chuckled a bit, though the noise was weak and worthless. "And that hate towards you came boiling up to the surface too fast that night we met in the bar and it just kept coming from then on until I guess I caused you to feel that same extent of disgust towards me. In my race to…well…make you miserable, I didn't see I was making Alfred feel that way too. So, I locked him up. That's when he left with North Italy to Greece."

The man shook his head and Antonio swore he saw sadness in his green eyes as he stared shocked at him, astonished he was really telling them such things about himself.

"Anyway, my rage took me over and I went to every limit to make everyone feel my wrath, not just you anymore. Even Alfred, God, even Alfred. But, like I said, he is a hero, so he did what he had to do. When I fell into the ocean the pain was the worst I'd felt in my entire life. Not just the wound, not just the gallons of blood pouring out of me so quickly and the salty water infecting my blood stream and filling my lungs with its icy clasp. I come to grip with what I'd done, how I'd made Alfred feel and I knew I would never see him again. That the last thing I would ever do to him was almost kill his baby brother in front of him. That hurt more than anything. But, I couldn't see, everything was black and I couldn't move. It's a strange feeling, feeling yourself die. To feel the life suck out of your body until all that's left is every lifelong regret and sorrow."

"But you didn't die! You lived, how?" The Spaniard urged, and he knew the other three were listening in carefully.

"Ah," The Englishman chuckled. "You would think my guardian angel saved me, wouldn't you, Spain? That it was a miracle of God, something of that extent. Well, if so, my guardian angel is a cat loving Greek."

"Greece? Greece saved you?"

"He did. Turns out none of us noticed that after he had freed the others from their ropes, he disappeared. I think myself a fool for not noticing. But, he was under the dock in the boat Alfred and Feliciano had taken from my ship. He was planning an attack, but when he saw me fall in, he jumped in and got me into the boat. The same with Alfred and when you all left he took us ashore and cleaned us up. At that point, we devised a plan and came to your aid."

The air was silent but for the bouncing cart wheels on the dirt and horse hooves clamping down on the ground as they ran.

"I see, Arthur. Don't worry, we'll get Russia and we'll beat them together."


	20. Chapter 20

Two days passed with none stop riding. The noise of the exhausted horses rang insanely in their tired ears. Every now and then they were forced to stop so the beasts wouldn't collapse, and they always took this time regaining energy themselves or washing up in a nearby stream, tending to the weary horses, something of that sort.

Matthew hadn't moved from his spot against the wall, laying away from the others, he didn't speak or look at them. Normally this may sound normal for the shy boy but he was unresponsive to offering of food and water or to wash up. He would simply stay as he was, and each time this happened Arthur would fearfully check to make sure the bloody blonde was still alive. But he was. His skin was hardly there, it seemed, as lifeless as a broken doll he just bounced up and down as the cart moved. That was his only movement and even the Italians couldn't get him to change.

Maybe he was dead. Maybe his mind had given out, his guiltless soul too petrified and crushed with unmerciful lies and cruel beatings. Had it given up and cast itself away, his soul? Leaving only the shelf of a motionless child to tend to itself or be cared for like a puppet?

Eventually they had tried forcing him to eat. That didn't work. The food they shoved into his mouth only sat there getting moist with what little saliva his dehydrated body could produce. They cleaned him off though. Ripping off part of the bag Spain had used to carry their merchandise from the village they made makeshift rags. Taking them to a nearby stream, Arthur and Antonio got them wet and came back to the cart. Arthur lifted the limp boy so he was sitting up and started carefully wiping away the dirt and dried up blood covering his pale form. He removed the shirt he wore and set it aside. The Spanish man removed the Canadian's rough shoes and cut up pants so only his under garments remained and cleaned him the best he could.

They laid him back down after finishing and threw the rags out of the cart before climbing out themselves. They went back to the water and tried their best at washing away the grossness from the clothing before coming back and setting the items on hot rocks to dry in the bright sun.

Though the sun shone brightly and beat their bodies, they were north now and the chilly air was almost cold enough for Arthur to compare to the icy waters he fell in. Each of them, including Matthew who was covered by Romano and Italy, were smothered in one of the blankets the Spaniard had brought them from the village.

"We are near." England announced, still using the blanket to keep the fierce winds from hitting his face. They had hit the dirt roads again almost two hours ago and had been silent the entire time. They flew through a forest, enormous trees towered over them easily and into the grey sky. Arthur supposed they were lucky it wasn't snowing where they were just yet. He wasn't sure the horses or the cart could make it through. Actually, he wasn't sure they could.

The relief didn't last long though. As they climbed higher north east, quickly they could feel the change in temperature. The snowflakes fell, each individual free faller fluttering down gently as they rode on. It was peaceful, actually, and calming though they made the ride colder it was bearable. But just as quickly as the air shifted, the free falling gliders turned into harsh divers, pelting Arthur as hard as they could from the darkening sky. The sunlight was limited now and the horses crunched the rising snow with difficulty.

"Just a little farther! On ward!" He whipped the ropes, urging the two creatures in front of him onward.

The ride slowed and the breath of the horses and Arthur was visible in the chilly air.

"Arthur," Antonio said suddenly. "Arthur, perhaps you should take a break, let me-"

"No. You don't know how to get there and I don't feel like looking over your imprudent shoulder and telling you which way to turn every five seconds. Bloody Spaniard, use your brain." But even his threats and insults were chilled with the weather.

The English blonde tugged the thin cover around him tighter, trying to keep as much warmth around him as he could. His body was numb as it had been in the water and tears stung in his bitter eyes.

"Arthur," Spain muttered, crawling over and leaning over the seat to see the Englishman's pale face. "Arthur? Arthur? Arthur! Arthur, wake up!" He shrieked abruptly, grabbing the man still holding the ropes and staring forward. At the sudden movement, the Brit's head rolled back limply though his fists never removed themselves from the ropes. His face even whiter than normal, with no color left and frost had begun to cover his color drained lips, nose and eyelashes. Snow built up on his shaggy hair, melting and the melted water ran down his face and neck and soaked into the blanket and his clothes.

Spain smacked England's face lightly, trying to get a response. "Arthur, hey! England!" But still nothing, the horses rode on despite no one watching where they were going. Antonio's green eyes stared shocked into the lifeless emerald ones as he held the other's dead skull.

"Romano, Italy! Take Arthur!" He commanded loudly over the sound of the violent wind. He started pulling the Brit over the front seat and into the back of the carriage. Then, grabbing the ropes he forced the horses to slow their pace into a more comfortable trot.

"What wrong with him!" The Northern Italian wailed, small, thin hands touching the freezing skin of Arthur's face, wiping off the frost and snow. Romano grabbed a different blanket, throwing Arthur's wet one in the corner and covering him carefully.

"I…I don't know." Spain bit his cheek when the two Italians looked at him in shock. If Antonio didn't know…how could they fix it? How could they keep Arthur from-

The tan man looked down at Arthur's wilted form, his eyes still open and arms outstretched as if he still had the ropes. He moved his body so it was more relaxed. He closed the man's eyes and pushed his stiff arms to his side. "Just keep him warm. Care to him the best you can, I have to go up front."

"What! No! Antonio, then the same will just happen to you and then where will we be!" Romano cried out.

Spain smiled at him, wrapping his blanket around himself. "Just be strong, it's better than us just sitting here completely blind. Besides, Arthur said we were almost there. I shouldn't be up here long enough for that to happen." So, he moved forward despite the protest and whipped the ropes like Arthur had.

The Italians stared at the frozen driver laying there beside them.

"Let's move him." Romano suggested. "Next to Matthew." He lifted himself to his knees, and his younger brother followed. Pulling as gently but still as much as they could, they got the Brit and the Canadian beside one another. It was then they froze themselves and stared frightenedly at the pair.

They looked exactly alike. Both lifeless, skin stony white, lying motionless save the bouncing of the cart. They both seemed oddly thin and just then they realized how little Arthur had actually eaten himself while trying to get the younger boy to feed. The Italians just sat there then, deaf to all other noise, even their own breathing. They weren't even sure if they were anymore.

"Arthur." Came the sound suddenly and the two's eyes shifted from the Brit to the Canadian. "Arthur." He mused again, turning on his bruised side his right arm moved with such puppet likeness it made the two witnesses shiver. But the boney hand trailed across his savior's face lightly before grazing towards his torso. His arm wrapped loosely, though obviously that was as tightly as he could manage now, around the older man. He stared at the other beside him with foggy, violet eyes before closing them again, Arthur never flinching as the underling moved next to him.

Lovino and Feliciano held one another tightly. His movements…that wasn't Canada. That couldn't have been. It was…it was too dead! To zombie! A half bodied ghost! And his voice, it had been quiet like always, but especially now. But it wasn't just; it creaked, strained starkly, like a broken person's last breath.

But Spain hadn't noticed and kept driving.

An hour passed, shouldn't they be there? Romano got up and went to Spain for what seemed the millionth time, checking him. Wiping snow from his face and his long, brown hair strapped into a ponytail with a red ribbon. He changed his blanket when his other started to soak and then would go back and hugged his brother, sharing a blanket after having given the unknowing Spain his since it had been warm already from his own body.

Later, Romano grasped that he had fallen asleep. How long had he been? His brother was beside him, snoring gently and England and Canada were still unmoved. He got up, seeing it had turned almost dark, but Spain was still going.

"Spain! Spain! Stop, you won't be able to see for much longer. We should just stop now."

"Ah, Romano." The Spaniard said softly, his voice abnormally different. It made Romano's spine tingle. "It's alright. We'll just go a little farther. Did you fall asleep? I was wondering why you hadn't come up here in a few hours."

Hours?

Lovino's hazel eyes glanced over his Captain and he gasped, his fingers had the same icy, blue glaze Arthur's had begun to get, his blanket was now drenched and his shaggy head was plastered in snow and rime.

How was it still even day at all? Shouldn't it be the middle of night by now? The moon was out, and it was dark, but not midnight dark. The sun was just scrapping the horizon. "Wh-What day is it, idiot?"

Spain looked from the road, his eyes glassy like Arthurs frozen ones. "I'm not sure. Tomorrow, I know. The moon shone through the clouds, don't worry."

"You rode through the night, idiot! We're probably way past our desti-" He froze, Spain started to tilt to the side though his plastic smile stained his frozen face. "H-Hey! Bastard! Stop, watch the road! Spain! Spain, stop! You're going to fall! Stop!" His thin arms stretched out, but the Spaniard was too far and when he grabbed his Captain's soaked coat, they both started to fall. "Spain!"

Cold.

It was cold.

No. No, it wasn't cold. It was subzero. It was numbing. It was…

Pain.

It shot through the half unconscious Italian's body. His tear pricked eyes looked around, vision blurred. Did he remember hearing a crash? Or was it bones cracking? Both? It was both. Yes, most certainly…both. He saw red. Lots of red. It covered his body, it came from it. His ribs, they were crushed. He knew they were though the pain was intense. He knew also that the bloody snow he was lying face down in was numbing his body, so it wasn't as bad. He could see Spain beside him, also in the snow and crimson liquid pouring from his body too though he stayed unconscious.

How lucky. How lucky he was, to die asleep. Not like he was. No, Lovino was awake, only half, but he was and dying. He could feel it, the life draining as quickly as the blood from his body. This must've been how Arthur had felt before. He never thought he would be able to imagine.

Arthur? Where were he, and Matthew, and fratello?

He couldn't hear the cart a longer. He saw it though. It was on its side, and the horses in front of it had finally given up and accepted their fate, much like he had laying here in the snow. Three limp bodies were near it. Two blonde, one with shiny, auburn hair. But all three thrown carelessly out into the snow like he and his Captain had been. All were unconscious but him. How had it wrecked, anyway?

Oh yeah. He and Spain. They'd fallen, he pieced together, and the pain, his broken ribs, they'd been run over by their own cart. It had broken the wheel too. He managed to move his head just a bit to see down at his body better. Bits of wood from the wheel were lodged into his flesh. Yes, he'd taken most of the damage from it. Not Spain. Lucky bastard. Lucky…damn lucky…lover…Spain…

Maybe he was lucky too. Maybe, cause soon he felt his own mind start to give out and slowly he started to lose consciousness like the rest of them. But what was that noise now? So close, yet so faint? Snow being crushed by practiced footsteps.

"Ah, I have visitors." Romano heard an unfamiliar voice say, almost delighted, it sounded. He passed out no later after hearing the stranger's next comment. "Ah, I hope none of them are dead yet, da!"


	21. Chapter 21

It was cold. No, that wasn't right. He was frozen, he knew, but he couldn't feel it. The only sensation running through his body now was an extraordinary, anesthetized numbing save the faint sting throbbing slowly from his chest. Somehow he could tell he was no longer in the bloody snow though he couldn't force his eye lids to open and his hearing was low.

"That little Italian got the worst of it, da. I was surprised he actually lived this long." Romano heard the dim sound of the unfamiliar voice with the slow, thick accent from before. "But no matter now, what did you come here for again, Captain Arthur?"

Arthur? England…he was awake. That must mean this voice belonged to whoever it was they were on their way to see, didn't it? Or maybe he really was just dead, or dying and hallucinations were over taking his mind. Who knew? Maybe such illusions didn't just happen in the dessert, in the freezing cold too?

I want to move. The Italian thought harshly to himself, but his body did less than nothing still. Move, dammit! His finger twitched reactively but he no longer could hear the conversation going on between the Russian and Englishman. His focus was stamped on moving, living again, being stuck like this drove his mind into craziness he could hardly take it.

"Sh, I do think your friend is awake, da." Ivan grinned, looking at Romano carefully.

Arthur did the same, but his look of confusion humored the Russian greatly. "He hasn't even moved a bloody inch. He's out cold."

But the only reaction he got was the taller man still watching without a sound.

But Romano didn't know he was being watched. His brain was still focused on moving, just a little more! His hand…it itched with movement, and then his other. At that moment his hazel eyes shot open and he gasped, lungs taking in all the warm air from the fire burning close. With his new revival, pain flooded back into his numb body and his crumbled lungs filling with air caused him to choke. He leaned over the sofa he found himself on until he regained control and he eased back onto the pillow that had been placed under his head. Where was he? His foggy eyes searched the room. It was a warm room, in temperature and color. There was a large fireplace and dark brown cabinets on the caramel wall. Ivan and Arthur were staring at him still, Ivan with an amused smile and Arthur with shock. Antonio was below him, wrapped in a blanket and laid on a long pillow that only lengthened about half his body. Romano found his brother curled in a ball on a nearby chair, along with France with arms around Canada in another.

England shook his head and relaxed into his chair again. "It really bloody scares me how you do that."

Russia chuckled. "I apologize, comrade." Then, his violet gaze turned to the awoken Italian but his look sent shivers up his spine. "How about some hot buttered rum, da?" He offered the glass to Romano, who took it suspiciously. "It'll warm you right up."

With a quick look at Arthur, Lovino saw he had his own glass that was almost empty. He was sure it was the same drink, both glasses held a bright, orange liquid and it smelt incredibly sweet. Bring the glass to his lips, he took and sip and shivered. It was so sweet and it burnt his tongue. But…it was good, and his stone body greeted the warmth.

"Ah, see! You look better already." The Russian grinned, watching as his guest finish the rest of the drink.

Color returned to the Italian's face and his movement became more normal, no longer broken like a frozen doll. A long sigh slid from his lips, and he relaxed into the sofa.

"Now, Arthur, as you were saying…"

I must've fallen asleep…fuck, this headache. Stupid rum…damn Russian bast… "Ugh!" Lovino sat up, holding his head. Looking around, Ivan and Arthur were gone.

"Romano!" He heard suddenly, and unexpectedly Antonio had his arms around him. "They told me you had woken up but fallen back asleep. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Are you in pain? Ivan said he gave you some medicine but I'm still worried. Are you feeling fine? Do you feel feverish? Any side effects from the medicine? Actually, do you-"

"Shut up!" Romano shoved the tan arms off him, glaring the other man down. "God, you stupid Spanish bastard, I have a headache. What do you mean pain? Why'd that fat ass give me medicine?"

Spain stared at his underling, looking him over. "Lovi, are you alright? You seem even more testy then usual…"

"Just tell me what you mean dammit!"

"Fine! Fine! He gave you medicine to help with the pain. He had doctors patch you up."

"Why?"

"Why! Mi amore! Do you not remember what happened!" Antonio gasped. "You don't remember the cart crashing!"

"That cart? The cart! Fuck! Wait, where is Feliciano! Is he alright?"

"Si, Si, he is here, Lovi. Calm down, he is fine. Everyone is alive and you were the only one really affected by the crash. You have some broken bones but that's about it But," Spain muttered desolately suddenly. "The doctors said Canada is not in such good shape either. He is extremely ill and the doctors are worried."


	22. Chapter 22

It was late now, days after they had arrived to Russia's home. It has been snowing every second of every day and every night. Italians weren't made for this kind of weather!

Still, Canada hadn't gotten better though doctors treated him almost 24/7. France refused to leave his side and the whole thing gave Romano a shady, almost sickening feeling that left him uncomfortable and unable to sleep.

Lovino's hazel eyes were heavy though he kept them open, staring emptily at the ceiling above him. He glared at all the tiny cracks and straggly elevations that were imprinted into the ceiling's warm color.

Each member of the group had been moved into their own bed rooms now. Each one was still warm in color and blankets piled on top of one another on the wide beds, but no room seemed as peaceful and inviting as the other they had been in before with the fireplace. It just relaxed Romano as he stared into the fire burning in front of him, surrounded by his new friends, though he'd never tell them he thought of them that way, he just felt safe.

He hardly even told Feliciano out loud how much he cared about him; how much he loved his little brother.

What was with all these weird feelings lately?

Deep in his thoughts, Romano never noticed Spain open the door to his room, making the bright light from the hall illume into his bedding.

"Lovino," The Spaniard said, snapping the confused Italian out of it. He looked over at his Captain, arms behind his head as he lay on his bed. What was this? Spain's face…it was so serious. He didn't get to see this often. Hesitantly, Romano sat up, watching the tan man with a concerned look of confusion.

"Lovino, you should come with me."

"Wh-What's going on?"

"It's Canada. Now come on."

What was this? Now he was walking through the empty hallways through this Russian's house towards Canada and France's room. The Frenchman had insisted he share a room with his underling. He didn't know why, but Spain wasn't acting normal. His eyes were cold, porcelain orbs staring in front of him without any hope showing through like the normally did. No…this wasn't Spain.

"We're here. Just go in and say goodbye."

"G-Goodbye?" Romano repeated, looking up at his superior with shock and fear. But, suddenly he felt a hand grab his collar and pull him inside the little room where his friend slept. The door slammed behind him with a sharp bang but now it was silent.

What had just…pulled him in? Had Spain and the others who'd been standing outside the door not even noticed?

His eyes scanned over the room, seeing hardly anything. The darkness of night held the room tightly and only the light sparkling in from the moon landed over the bed where the Canadian lay asleep.

Romano stared at his friend. He was pale, more than normal, and dark circles arched under his closed eyes. Moving closer, the Italian had to force himself to get nearer. Each step felt abnormally like a hundred pounds and seemed to slam back down onto the ground in the silence.

Forcing him body forward he finally reached the bed, falling to his knees he leaned close to Matthew's cold face.

"Sad, isn't it?"

Lovino froze, finger tips lightly touching the chilly body of the Canadian beside him.

"He is so young. What a shame to die so, da?"

"Wh-What?" Romano turned his head, almost robotically his neck shook and jerked like it was from a broken puppet. He saw two violet eyes staring back at him from the end of the bed, watching him with amusement but still they managed to easily send a cold shiver up his spine and through his frozen nerves. His body shook now, but the eyes never left him.

"Russia?"

"Yes. Oh, but look at your friend. Seems he's stopped breathing, finally."

"Wh-Canada? Canada!" Romano's stunned face spun back to look at his friend, finding him still and growing even paler than before. "Matthew!" He cried out, shaking him desperately.

Still, the lifeless body grew white until finally it started to grow a light grey.

"What is this-" Lovino's eyes were wide, watching his friend. His hands retracted instantly from the body, tears stinging in his hazel eyes as he stared in fear.

The body, it was grey now. iBut…so fast? He's only just died…What the hell is happening…He's-/i The frozen body started to shrink in as if something was sucking the muscle from the bone and the skin reseated towards it. Still the body darkened in color, the skull pushing out from the thinned skin so you could see the valleys and mountains of the bone. He looked horrifying. Romano shook in terror but couldn't move.

Then, subtle at first, his golden hair grew as grey as his skin and started to fall off and piled onto the pillow. But, the rest of his body still seemed to grow more disturbing. Soon he was nothing but a thin lair of skin and you could see his bones poking out of it.

He watched for only a few minutes more, tears pouring down his tan face as he watched his friend's body, what looked like, dissolve into nothingness until the only thing left lying in front of him was a cold skeleton. Even the pile of grey hair had disintegrated and Lovino screamed as his body started to work again. He panicked, falling backwards so the back of his head hit the hard, wooden floor. He curled up, his fingernails digging into the skin of his head as he held it, shaking madly.

"What a shame. He was so cute. His brother will be upset, da."

"Wh-What the hell just…what happened to him..?" Puddles of tears formed under the Italian, growing bigger every second. He glanced up at the Russian as he moved towards him, bending down so he was on one knee beside the Italian. Leaning in, he grinned monstrously.

"Why, just what's going to happen to all of you."

"Romano! Romano!"

That voice. Who was it? He knew that voice. Though it sounded frightened the familiar sound was…relaxing…and comforting.

Why did he feel so hot? He could feel boiling sweat all over his body but he hadn't been running or anything. Wait…

"Canada!" He screamed, jerking up his panicked face jerked in every direction. He was in his room? What?

"Romano! Are you alright? You've been screaming in your sleep! You've been twisting and turning and you wouldn't wake up!"

"Sp-Spain?" Lovino stared at the concerned man sitting beside his bed. So all that was just…a dream? "Where's Canada?"

"Canada?" The Spanish accent looked confused. "He's sleeping."

"How is he?" Romano urged impatiently.

"Fine, mi amor. Matthew is doing much better than before, the doctors said. He had a major breakthrough earlier tonight and his temperature is starting to get back to normal."

Lovino sighed, shoulders slumping in relief. "Good…" He leaned over then, his head resting on Spain's surprised shoulder.

"O-Oh? Lovi, are you sure you're alright?" He asked, wrapping his arms around his underling.

"Yeah. Just…a bad dream."


	23. Chapter 23

It was two days after Romano had been haunted in his sleep. He'd learned Canada was getting better but he didn't tell him about his dream. He just liked to sit beside his friend's bed and talk to him as he rested, watching over him as if it would keep anything bad from happening to him.

"Romano," The Canadian looked up at him from his bed. "What's the matter? Something wrong?"

"Hm? No." The Italian replied quickly. "Just…tired."

"Oh? Well you can leave and take a nap if you-"

"No! No, it's alright, Canada. I'd rather sit in here if that's alright." Romano's voice was soft and he stared at the floor. Why wasn't he mean to this boy like he was everyone else, even his own captain got yelled at by him, but for some reason he just didn't want to around Matthew. His presence was relaxing.

"O-Of course it is, Lovino. Stay as long as you want." Matthew replied.

They stayed like that for another week, Arthur starting to get more and more worried about Alfred. He was injured already, but he was a very strong young lad. Still, maybe letting him fight wasn't such a good idea.

"Mi amigo, calm down." Antonio watched the Brit pace around the room uncomfortably. "They're probably on their way here right now as we speak."

With a sigh Arthur sat down, slumping in a chair. Feliciano was busy asleep in the one beside him and Spain was warming up beside the fire.

"They are, da." Came a voice suddenly, making England flinch.

"A-Ah, Russia. What was that?" Arthur asked, both captains turning to look at the tall man standing by the door way.

"They are on their way. I've just been informed that Greece, America and France have been seen riding towards here. They're estimated to be arriving in less than an hour."

"What, they're almost here?" Romano repeated as Spain came in to tell both he and Canada the good news.

"Si, Russia is preparing a large meal for all of us and there we can discuss what to do about Turkey." Antonio informed the two. "They'll be here in just a short while so Romano, you and me can help Canada get out of bed. Come on." The Captain smiled at his underling before grabbing Matthew and starting to pull him from under the covers.

"Thank you. But, I think I've got it from here." The Canadian told them as he stood up, a bit wobbly.

"De nada, amigo. If you're sure you can walk fine. Let's get to the dining room."

Sitting in a tall, brown room with decorated, gold mirrors shining on every wall, Spain, England, Canada and the Italy's sat patiently for the others to finally be reunited with them.

"In this way, da." Russia's large form emerged from another room and following him were the three the others had been waiting to see.

"Alfred!" England yelled at the sight of the boy. He stood from his chair, knocking it over in his quick haste to be near his lover again.

"Arthur, h-hey!" The American was a bit surprised as he found the Brit clinging onto his tightly once he made it through the door. He looked down at the short man, wrapping his own arms around the other to tighten the embrace. "Arthur…" It wasn't often Alfred got to see this look in Arthur's eyes, that look of gratefulness and relief. He hugged his captain tightly, not paying attention to anyone else until he had pushed their lips together and pulled away again. He kissed the top of the blonde's hair, taking in the sweet smell of tea and fire wood.

"Captain-" Matthew held out his arms in offering, and Francis was quick to scoop him up and give him a kiss.

"Mon amour, Matthieu! Je vous ai manqué! I've missed you, Matthieu!"

"I've missed you too…" The Canadian snuggled close to the Frenchman's neck until an American accent said his name.

"Alfred!" Canada pulled away from Francis who still held him tight. "Alfred, thank you…"

His older brother smiled and hugged him tightly. "I missed you too, Mattie. I'm glad you're alright."

After everyone was reunited, they were sitting around the long dining table, Russia at the end looking around at everyone closely. He watched how all of them were eating and laughing, smiles on each of their faces. How none of them were thinking of anything wrong or painful anymore. It made him grin in amusement.

Things went on like this for the rest of the night and the next day. Only when the second morning together came did a loud noise interrupt peaceful talking.

"What the hell was that?" Lovino stood up, beside Spain who moved him behind.

"Arthur…Francis…" The Spaniard muttered, knowing the sound all too well. He knew the other two pirates would recognize it as well. But who would bring a cannon all the way out here?

"Looks like we have some uninvited guests, da." The Russian floated in the door way again undetected until he spoke.

England clenched his teeth. "Do we go out?"

"We have no other choice." Francis replied solemnly, starting towards the door and out into the freezing Russian snow as the others followed out after him.

"Ah, you did come out!" A too familiar German accent laughed loudly.

"Prussia!" England growled. "How the hell did you get here!"

"I followed those unawesome three back here, knowing they'd lead me to the rest of you."

"And you brought Ludwig and turkey…" Spain muttered, no one surprised. "Too scared to fight alone?"

A strange, eerie grin spread across the albino's pale face and his crimson eyes flared with a sly flame. "No need to spit insults, Antonio. I just came to finish the job, and I'll start with the one who should've died on the dock! England!"

"Wha-"

England was thrown back, pain suddenly tearing his nerves apart. It was even worse than when he was shot in his torso. This time, he started screaming. "H-Hell! Bloody hell!" His quivering hands pressed against his right eye, tears streaming out the other. He could feel the crimson blood running down his hand and between his fingers as he pressed his palms against his face.

"Shit…Bad aim that time, my apologizes, tea sucker." Prussian grinned, watching the other man scream and writhe in pain.

"Arthur! Arthur, what did he-" Alfred ran to his lover and gasped. He stared at the man holding the place where is his right eye was. Blood was spattered over his face from where he was shot. "Arthur!"

"Alfred! Alfred! Oh God, Alfred! I can't see!"


	24. Chapter 24

Spain's prisoner

"You…you bastard! Prussia, I'm going to kill you!" Alfred screamed, holding Arthur close he stared painfully at his lover. "Just hold on, Arthur." He put his hand over his Captain's, pressing against his bleeding eye.

"Ha! What do you plan on doing, pretty boy?" The albino grinned sourly, his crimson eyes glowing with sadistic pride and violent excitement.

Alfred looked towards him; standing straight again he faced the other with clenched fists. His blue eyes gleamed with anger and he gritted his teeth. "I'm going to kick your sorry ass!" He spat back, his feet moving swiftly as he lunged towards the grinning man full of hate and revenge.

"Turkey," Gilbert waved his hand, urging to tan man forward. "I don't have time to mess with little boys. You get to dispose of this one."

The man's smirk could be seen from under his mask as he replied. "Of course, it will be my pleasure. I can repay him for that nasty black eye he gave me before." Sadiq's fingers curled against the handle of his sword that hung lazily at his waist. The blade flew through the air at full force as he unsheathed it, the sharp edge singing in the wind. He met Alfred's speed, meeting him in the middle of the snowy field. The Turk grinned as he pushed his Arabian sword towards the younger American.

"Fuck!" The teen hissed, jumping out of the way before it could hit him and he landed messily in the freezing slush. "Too scared to fight your own battles, Gilbert!" He yelled, hastily rolling in the cold to avoid another one of the Turk's blows. He growled, bringing his legs towards him until they pressed against his chest then lengthened them again quickly when the man went to swing at him again. His feet struck the tan man's chest and caused him to stumble backwards as Alfred climb his way back on his feet, wiping the snow from his now wet clothes though his eyes never left his opponent.

"No, just taking care of the useful ones, brat!" The albino replied easily, watching with amusement how the teen had to dodge his ally's attacks. "The ones like…my dearest friend, Antonio. Wasn't it you who told me when we broke apart those years ago you would kill me?"

"Si…I did make that promise." Antonio muttered, glaring back at his former friend. His arms were wrapped around the small Italian, holding him close safely.

"Well? I believe it's your turn to try, old friend. Francis already blew his back in Turkey. Guess he just isn't as awesome as me, but of course I already knew that." He threw his pale arms out and shrugged carelessly. "How about you take a shot, hm?" he challenged, watching the Spaniard growl and tighten his grip on his underling.

"Well? Or is that twerp stopping you?"

"Shut up."

"What was that? I couldn't hear you from so far away. Guess big, conquering pirate is easy enough to be held back by some little-"

"Shut up!" Spain released the teen but quickly felt a hand on his coat.

"Spain," Romano stared up at his captain with fear in his hazel eyes. "You don't have to-" But he stopped when suddenly the Spaniard was pulling him close again and he felt the man's lips on his head.

"I do. If we don't stop him, he'll get too powerful to stop and the world will be thrown into chaos. That is the Prussian way. Kill first, show mercy never." He spoke softly into the Italian's auburn hair before he pulled himself out of Lovino's weak grip and set his eyes back towards Prussia.

"Don't turn your back on your opponent!" The albino yelled quickly, pulling the thin rope that cued the loud noise from earlier to ring through the air.

"Wha-!" Spain flew backwards, grabbing his underling again, through this time he shoved him back into the snow.

"Antonio, what the hell!" Lovino growled before staring up at his Captain that was pinning his small body down into the cold snow.

"Wow! Still as quick as ever, Antonio!" Prussia laughed as the Spaniard rolled off his underling and sat in the snow beside him, glaring darkly. "You managed to save yourself and your little underling from getting hit with a cannonball? Impressive! But I wonder how many times you can pull that little trick off!"

"Damn…" The Spanish captain muttered quietly, stumbling to his feet again he readied himself. "Lovino!"

"Y-Yes sir?"

"Stay down and stay alert."

"Yes…Captain."

Spain glared at the Prussian who gladly grinned back at his old friend. He took his hand off the rope, and advanced forward at running speed as the Spaniard did. They lunged at one another, Spain topping the other first as they both threw punches at the other.

"Matthieu," France said softly, grabbing the teen's arm. "Come on, we have to help Arthur."

"Right." The blonde agreed, moving quickly beside his captain as the Frenchman had to help him walk.

When they reached the hurt Englishman, he was no longer screaming but tears still poured down his from his good eye and he had his jaw clenched in pain as he arched his back.

"Arthur!" Francis knelt beside him, turning him so he was facing upward towards him. "Arthur, move your hand from your face. I need to see your eye."

"What do you think you can do about it, bloody frog!" The Englishman yelled painfully. "There is no eye anymore! That bullet went through it, it shot through my skull."

"You'd be dead if that's what happened, Ar-" But Francis stopped, noticing that the blood not only poured from his eye but from under his hair too. The Frenchman carefully moved the reddened hair pieces to see under them and gasped. "The bullet...it…"

"Captain? Captain, what's wrong?" Matthew was on his knees too beside them, watching the Frenchman worriedly.

"The bullet did go through him, Matthieu. Look, the blood. There's a wound here, right in front of his ear." Francis let the blood soaked hair fall back into its place.

The young Canadian stared in shock at the wound before the hair covered it again. "How lucky…if it had gone through just another inch in he would've…"

"Matthieu," Francis held Arthur carefully so he wasn't laying in the snow. "he can hear you."

Matthew looked down, seeing Arthur staring at him with his last good eye, tears and blood streaming down his face, staring as if waiting to hear the rest of his appalling sentence.

But instead of finishing it, the Canadian smiled weakly at the Brit, trying his hardest not to look as worried as he was. "He needs to stop losing so much blood, Captain." He changed the subject quickly and started to unravel one of his own bandages.

"Stop that!" Francis cried. "Don't take that off!"

"He needs it more than me and we don't have time to go in the house and look for one! This one is clean anyway, I didn't really need it. I just put it on for extra support." The blonde muttered, still working to pull of the wrap until he got it and began wrapping it around the Brit's head instead. "Arthur, please, you must move your hand. This will stop the bleeding, I promise."

The Brit stared up at them shakily before slowly his blood splattered hand fell and landed in the snow beside him.

They gasped and Canada moved quickly to cover up the gore with the cloth.

"Mon Dieu…" Francis whispered, looking away and towards the battles between Spain and Prussia as well as the one between America and Turkey.

"There," Canada smiled at his handy work. "All done, Arthur."

"Th-Thank you…Canada." He muttered softly, wiping some of the tears away slowly.

"Of course, Arthur." Canada grinned down at him, helping him sit up more.

"Russia?" Francis mumbled, peeking the curiosity of the other two. "What is Russia doing?"

The other two looked over, Arthur leaning lightly on the Frenchman for support. He'd lost a lot of blood, but he could feel the pressure the wrap put on it and knew it would help stop the blood.

"He's heading towards Lovino and Feliciano…" Matthew noted, watching the brother's hug closely, watching the others fight without noticing the Russian coming towards them. "What does he plan to do…"

They watched curiously, silent until they gasped suddenly. Feliciano cried out and grabbed onto his older brother as he moved.

"Spain!" Romano yelped, feeling the pain in his head as someone pulled his hair, forcing him to stand. "Spain, you bastard, come help me!"

"What!" Spain stopped at the sound of his underling, only to get Prussia's pale fist in his face. He landed backwards in the snow and wiped the blood from his nose. "Russia, what are you doing! You're on our side!"

"Ha! Guess not, old friend!" Prussia laughed triumphantly. "Guess he's with the awesome me now!"

"Not quite, Prussia." The tall man grinned, keeping a hold on the Italian's hair. This made the albino frown and everyone stopped, watching the Russian carefully.

"In fact…" He said, his Russian accent calm as he moved slowly. His hand stayed where it was but the other slip into his long coat, fiddling for a few moments patiently before he pulled it out again with unexpected speed. "…I can't seem to stand you." He grinned more, the pistol glaring at the Prussian before a loud bang was heard in the cold air.

"Bruder!"

Silence.

No one spoke a word.

The only movement was the snow that floated calmly to the white ground and the thud of someone hitting the ground.

"Ludwig…" Gilbert whispered before his eyes went wide and he shot from his spot, completely forgetting Spain. "Ludwig! Ludwig!" He cried loudly, falling to his knees beside the body that laid in the cold snow.

"Well," Russia grinned in surprised amusement. "That was quite unexpected. But, heroic of him, da? He jumped in the way for his dear big brother…"

"Ludwig!" Prussia shook the body, seeing the blood as it clawed at the snow and spread quickly from under the blonde's body. But he didn't stop, screaming at the body franticly.

"Bruder…"

The albino stopped, listening carefully until he heard it again.

"Bruder…" The weak German voice mumbled and the Prussian pulled him up quickly, seeing the wound in his torso but wiped the snow off his weak brother's face.

"Ludwig, you…"

"I will not allow you to be hurt… großer bruder." The German smiled though the trail of blood made a crimson river down his chin from his mouth.

"Damn you Russia…Damn you to hell!" The albino cried, holding his brother tightly he pressed a hand against his torso to try and stop his bleeding though it didn't seem to work. "I'm going to kill you!"

"Are you?" Russia pointed the pistol again carefully at the two. "This time I won't miss, da."

"Russia!"

The tall man frowned and looked away from his prey, looking boredly over towards the glaring Brit.

"Russia! This was not part of our deal! Let Romano go!"

"Ah, but it is part of our deal, Captain Kirkland." The Russian grinned over at him. "The deal was; I help you defeat Prussia, I get land in return."

"You do! You get Prussia's land! Germany's-!" England pleaded.

"But I want more than that, da. Such a small land mass will just not do as payment." Came the reply. "I want Italy as well and maybe…North America as well?" He grinned larger, obviously thinking over the idea of also owning the two giant countries.

"No!" England yelled sternly. "You get Prussia, Germany, you can have Turkey, that is it!"

"I don't think you are in a well enough state to be making the decisions, comrade." The tall man muttered, turning his pistol towards the shocked Brit.

"No!" Alfred lunged forward again, this time towards the taller Russian, forcing him to the ground. The man's gun flew from his grip and Romano's hair was released in surprise as fist after fist connected with Ivan's face. "Don't you dare touch Artie! Don't you touch him!"

Another fist.

"Don't you touch him!"

Another fist.

"Don't-!"

"Alfred!" England yelled, making the American turn to look at him, his face full of rage and anger.

"Alfred, he's already gone." The Brit told him, making the other look down at the man under him.

Russia was completely knocked out but you could still easily see the blood drip out of his large nose and the bruises showing up on his pale skin. Alfred hadn't even noticed.

The American rolled off the man, huffing as his body relaxed from the anger. He stood then, grabbing the Russian's gun from the ground and ran towards his lover, enfolding his arms around him. "They wrapped your eye…"

England smiled. "Yeah…"

While Alfred kissed the Brit's head, Antonio had run to his own young lover.

"Lovi! Lovi, are you alright!" The Spaniard fell to his knees beside him, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Y-Yeah," The Italian breathed softly, feeling his captain's long fingers trail through his hair.

"Fratello…" Feliciano pulled at his brother's arms, only to be dragged into the hug himself by the older Italian.

"It's alright, Feli. It's alright now…" He whispered softly to his brother, looking up like the rest of them when they heard a noise that caught everyone's attention.

"I'm sorry…"

They could hear the sobbing.

"I'm so sorry. Please, please help him."

"Prussia…" England muttered softly.

"Please! He's dying! He's my little bruder!" The tears were streaming down his pale face and it seemed they'd found the Prussian's weakness. "Help him…don't let my little bruder die…"

For a few moments it was silent before one of them smiled gently.

"Of course not…" Canada stood slowly, only to be grabbed by Francis.

"Matthieu, where are you going?"

"To help Ludwig. We can't just let him die, captain. I can help stop the bleeding like I did with England." He explained simply, pulling away before heading over to the Germans as quickly as he could in his limping state.

"Here," He said, kneeling on the other side of the hurt blonde than Prussia as he started to unwrap another bandage from himself. "Use this to stop the bleeding. Then, we'll need to take him and Arthur to a doctor as soon as possible."

"D-Danke…" The albino took the cloth quickly, using it as instructed as the young Canadian watched quietly.

All of them did, observing without a word.

When he was finished, Ludwig looked up at his brother and smiled warmly and a sudden wave of relaxation and love washed over the albino's face.

"Thank you so much Canada…" Gilbert voiced softly, looking up at him and noticing the blonde had a warm smile on his face.

"You're welcome, Gilbert…and Ludwig." He looked down and gave the younger German brother a smile too.

"Нет!"

They heard suddenly and they all looked up at the Russian, wobbly but standing, red faced in rage.

"You dirty American!" He hissed evilly, charging towards him. "You'll pay for that, da!"

"Al!" Canada gasped but watched the Russian fall back into the snow suddenly.

"God, that felt good." Arthur laughed, everyone looking over and noticing the Russian's pistol Alfred had carried over in his pale hand. "And I was starting to feel left out of all this, you know, with having my eye blown out and all."

Alfred grinned as his lover let go of the weapon and let his arms wrap around the smaller man, pulling him against him.

"Good job, Artie." The American said with a laugh, kissing the man's forehead gently.

"Shut up, you git." The Brit chuckled back, taking the kiss with a warm smile of his own.


	25. Chapter 25

Spain's prisoner

It had been days since the Russian had fell and Arthur had lost his eye but none of them could be happier.

Once it was all over, everyone had stumbled back into the house to escape the cold that was taking them over. Though while Alfred was busy helping Arthur and Prussia and Matthew were tending to Ludwig, the Frenchman and Spaniard were occupied with making sure the Turk didn't run. Actually, they forced him to pick up the bloody Russian and carry his limp form into the cabin too.

He ended up sitting beside the unconscious the tall man in the corner because the two wouldn't let him move. He was their prisoner now.

They all huddled noisy next to the fire, talking and praying to their god to thank him that everyone was still here. Shortly after, the doctor that had come every day to care for the little Canadian came wondering in, and was shocked at what he saw; a man without an eye and two another's who were shot. Four were beat up black and blue and one was sitting in the dusty corner like a dog.

None the less he was willing to help. England ended up having to wear an eye patch and he grumbled in annoyance since the young American wouldn't stop kissing it. Ludwig had gotten clean up too and though he could still hardly move through the pain, he didn't mind the way his brother clung to his neck as if in protection and love. Russia was cleaned up as well, though still comatose. Prussia, Spain, America and Turkey had their cuts from their fights clean but nothing too serious.

It wasn't long until everyone was cleaned up and on their way. The doctor had stayed behind as they took one of Ivan's carriages and strapped two horses to the front, riding away through the eerie cold. Keeping a close eye on the two prisoners; they drove all the way back into the Turkish country. There waiting was the one and only Greek who had protected the new friends, Alfred and Feliciano, without fear.

When they returned, Alfred was the first to greet the Greek man, grabbing his hand and shaking it firmly.

"I can't thank you enough for everything. If there's ever anything you ever need…" He said tenderly, earning a grin from the usually laid back man.

"Thank you, America." He replied simply, more than happy to return the grateful gesture.

The rest filed out soon after, Spain holding onto Romano tightly though the Italian held his brother's hand. Alfred went back to Arthur and Prussia was busy helping his brother walk. Matthew watched as his Captain forced the prisoners onto the dock, shuffling them onto the deck of the Prussian ship to be put in the prison as the rest followed. Only Alfred and Arthur didn't go, going back to their own ship where England found his crew waiting and welcoming their Captain home.

More days passed and both ships were sailing back to that tiny town where the Spanish and French ships lay waiting still after dropping Greece back across the bay to his own country. When they docked in said town, and everyone was in order, they began their goodbyes.

Alfred hugged Feliciano tightly, seemingly to almost break him in half. The Bad Touch was headed for one last good drink together. Even Romano found himself hugging the shy Canadian. Everyone huddled in the bar, talking and laughing, suddenly realizing they weren't ready to break away. But they had to, they knew. But they also knew they'd see each other again soon and when the drinks were gone, soon was everyone else.

The group was back on the docks, all smiling sadly.

"Well, this is it then." Francis said through he silence.

"It's certainly been a hell of an adventure." Arthur added.

"No all over a bad one though." Spain cheered up.

"Maybe but…" The Prussian smirked. "This still didn't tell us who the real king of the sea is!"

"It's me!" The captains said together, suddenly finding themselves in silence again.

Suddenly, as if on cue, all of them started running as quickly as they could to their ships, leaving the underlings running after them.

Alfred ran after Arthur, Romano and Feliciano found it hard to catch up to Spain and Ludwig just shook his head and walked after his excited older brother. Each man intended to put his name in history as the greatest pirate captain; the king of the sea.

~~~~~~THE END~~~~~~

Thank you SO MUCH for sticking with this story! I hope you liked it ;A;


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